Visions of Gold
by 1leaderinred1
Summary: When a young girl fights a fiery beast in a nightmare, she thinks that the blond stranger that she cradles as he dies is but a figment of her imagination. Soon however, she finds herself in Middle Earth among characters far darker than the fiction she loved. Dark premonitions lead to her being thrust from the role of captive to captor as she meets her stranger once more.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is also published under my Archive of our Own account "Leader_In_Red" so don't be alarmed if you've seen it on both. I just wanted to put it here as I know that some people only browse one site or another. Anyway... hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Evelyn opened her eyes and was greeted by fire, fire all around her burning brighter than she could imagine. She inhaled deeply and found herself bending over, choking on the wretched smoke, heavier in her lungs than the wildfires which once plagued her town. She coughed and retched, wondering vaguely as to when dreams became so realistic.

Now, she raised her head and watched as a bright speck of yellow in the distance above rapidly drew closer. From the sky they fell, a golden haired angel and a hulking mass that she could not identify crashed before her. The blond figure rolled over after impact and was followed by a sight that informed her that this was surly a nightmare; a beast burning like it was a demon on fire with claws as long as a man's arm and a tail like a dragon was thundering towards the slim figure bearing the blond mane. The smaller of the two was valiantly fending it off, a bright sword gleaming with the light of flames striking back and forth. It was clear however that he was losing, his silver armor was tainted with what must have been the remnants of a long fight, his hair though bright yellow was tousled and matted, and the movement of his arms was growing ever slower.

Closer and closer to Evelyn they stepped, fair being forced to back up by the flaming claws of the relentless beast. Evelyn did not know either, yet she knew in her heart that the blond creature must certainly be fair whilst the fire beast was undoubtedly foul. Her heart increased in speed and ached with exertion as she watched what was fast becoming a losing battle.

_**Clang**_

The sounds of the fight increased with their closeness as the beasts claws seemed unaffected by the steel of the sword. The fire beast was huge and hulking, relying on its superior size, strength, and seemingly impenetrable armored skin. The other being however moved like silk dancing between flecks of ash. He ducked and feigned, sword ever lifted and dancing in the orange glow of flames. There was an inhuman grace with which he moved. He was certainly a being like no other.

_**Bang**_

The beast struck harder, this time his blow was too much for the wearied arms of his opponent. The blond's sword was ripped from his hands and flew across the stones behind the fire beast. The fair being however did not spare it a glance however as he lept from the path of another stoke from those deadly claws. Rolling and jumping forth once more, he readied his stance as if he were willing to take on the beast bare handed. They then became a cat and mouse. The beast knew that its prey was defenseless and seemed to revel in the fact that it would soon perish beneath its claws. It swiped its claws back and forth whilst the fair creature ducked, dodged, and rolled- always a hair's breath away from those razor edges.

_**Hiss**_

He stumbled, just slightly too slow the fair being was caught across the stomach, blood spilling forth from the wound as he fell to his knees, arms cradling his midsection. With its prey defenseless and trapped, the beast lumbered closer and Evelyn would swear that it was smiling.

**Crash**

Both beings were temporally distracted by this sudden and strange sound. They looked up to see Evelyn, standing with another rock loaded in her hand. She didn't know where she was, what she was doing, or why her dream felt so real, but she knew she had to help. At first, she had been so enchanted and horrified by the scene that she dared not move, however the thought of the beautiful creature dying by the hands of the wretched beast spurred her into action.

She pulled her arm back and threw with all her might, which was pitiful at best, bouncing the rock off the fire demon.

"Hey ugly," she cried. "Over here!" There she stood, amount the flames she felt in part like those righteous avenging angels of old. To her utter surprise, from her back she felt a pair of massive, feathered wings spread forth and rise up as raised her voice. There was no time to contemplate this strange turn of events however as a part of her grinned in triumph when the beast abandoned its quarry to lumber towards her whilst the other, more rational part of her mind, screamed hysterically at what she had just done. Perhaps it was the hope that this was just a dream that drove her to do it; but in truth, the gear of the light, the heat of the flames, and the bitter taste of ash on her tongue told her that this was far too real.

As the beast lumbered closer however, the blond figure looked up, blue eyes meeting hers with astute clarity. His gaze was intense enough to draw her attention for a moment as the thundering beast drew closer to her vulnerable form. Suddenly, she realized that she had not thought this plan through. She grabbed another rock and threw it with all her might. The beat, seemed to think of it as an annoyance of less importance than a fly being swatted from a picnic. Evelyn took a few steps back, finding a sheer drop behind her she braced herself for the blow that would inevitably end her life.

Once the beast got closer however, the fair being took his chance and, with grim pain still etched across his face, ran to his sword. In a flourish far too graceful for his state of injury, he turned and lunged at the beast from behind. He flew through the air, sliding to his back and under the legs of the beast, as it was raised to strike Evelyn, thrusting his sword into its belly. The demon had been so focused on Evelyn, its most annoying prey, it had not noticed the warrior at its back.

With a sickening crunch the blade found its home in a slight chink in the armored skin on the beast's stomach. The creature roared in agony and raised itself one last time before falling off the path on which they stood, down to the chasm below.

The fair creature remained where it laid, head and arms falling down in exhaustion. Evelyn then ran to him, all sense of caution gone as she was desperate to meet this being who had saved her life. She threw herself to her knees beside him and cradled his head, crowned with beautiful golden hair, on her lap. His golden tresses were long and pulled back in a series of delicate braids which had come partially undone in the fighting. She stroked his fevered brow and marveled at the perfection of his face. He was scuttled like those Greek statues of old: a chisel jaw, high cheekbones, a hawk-like nose, and eyes so blue it nearly hurt for her to look at them. Most of all though, those eyes showed pain and strength woven together with utter concern. He was babbling in some strange language which sounded like music to her ears, but his words were obviously laced with fear.

Evelyn did all she could, shushing him with soothing sounds and running gentle caresses across his face, hand tangling through his hair to reveal finally pointed ears. She had no time to revel in this however as her eyes shifted to his stomach. The creature's arms had fallen away in exhaustion and the extent of his injury was reveled- he had been disembowled. The beast's claws had torn through delicate flesh and reveled a set of organs looking all too human, now spilling forth from his battered vessel. If Evelyn had been made of weaker conviction, she would have fainted. Instead, she felt the bizarre appendages on her back flutter with worry before resuming her soothing caresses. The fair being continued to babel, eyes shining with concern and one hand vaguely pointing upwards.

Evelyn, for the first time since witnessing the fight expanded her attention outwards and listed with a sense of hearing she found strangely intense. Above she could hear the sounds of people running, carts speaking with exertion and children crying out in fear. However, she did not hear the sounds of fighting or monsters lumbering forth. Comprehension dawned on Evelyn at once. _That was why this being was fighting all alone!_ He was a warrior, running forth to fight the beast alone so his kin could escape.

"Shhhh shhhhhh," she whispered, hands feather light as she attempted to provide whatever comfort that she could. His breaths were becoming more labored and the flow of blood was turning from a steady stream to a leak. "They are safe, none pursue them. You did it, you stayed the beast and those you were protecting will continue on. No more beasts follow. They are safe." She whispered the mantra over and over again, not offering false assurances that he would live, but instead granting this noble warrior the truth and solstice that those he sought to protect would live on.

For many moment she whispered these words to the creature and stroked his fever brow, eventually though, his lips stilled and his eyes lost their lustre. He was dead.

Evelyn wept.

For what felt like hours she cradled his head, rocking slowly back and forth whilst weeping over the loss of a life she had never known. This fair being, in the short time was watch him, showed courage and heart beyond anything Evelyn had ever seen. In her short, sixteen years of life she had never experienced death up close. She felt her heart was breaking.


	2. Chapter 2

With a gasp, Evelyn flung forth from her bed, drenched in sweat to the sound of her alarm blaring. Her heart was racing at a million miles an hour as she tried to shake the image of the fair being's bright blue eyes growing dim, his intestines splattered across the cold stone whilst fires scorched all around. After several deep, calming breaths, she glanced at her phone, only to flail backwards on her bed in exasperation as she realized that it was Saturday and she had left her alarm on.

For several more hours that day, she laid in bed whilst the images of fire, beasts, and death danced through her head. Never had a dream felt so real before.

Eventually, she pulled herself from bed and dragged her feet across the carpet to her room till she reached her dresser. Today was going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 3

Three years had passed since that fateful night of terrors and the images of the dream had still not left Evelyn. For months after the dream she found herself reliving the experience nightly, except those times, it felt like an actual dream, like a movie one watches through a frosted glass window with only certain images coming into focus. After seeing multiple psychologists, therapists, and behavioral experts, the frequency of the reliving dreams had dropped to a once to twice weekly occurrence.

It still wasn't good, but it was more bearable than before.

A slight smile graced Evelyn's lips as she brushed out her raven hair and braided it was was her custom each day. No matter what, she always wore her hair in two delicate braids, one on each side of her head with small clumps of hair dangling in front. It was how the fair creature in her dreams wore his hair. After one watches another die over and over again, it seems that once can become rather attached. She liked to wear her hair in such a manner in a way, as absurd as it seems, to honor the beautiful soul.

An elf, that is what she now called him.

Over those three years she had become somewhat obsessive as to interpreting her dream. For a while, she imagined it as some sort of fey, leading her into a deep dive of Irish mythology. She imagined that it must be of the Seelie kin, the good fairies. That was of course until she stumbled across a book at the back of the library. It was a work titled The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien. She devoured the book, despite its considerable and somewhat meandering length, and found some similarities to her dream far too eerie. This lead her down the path of everything she could find ofTolkien's works. In the end, she determined that the being must have been one of the first born elves. Which one in particular she could not determine as mystery shrouded the fictional First Age.

Of course, finding stories to match her dreams only opened more questions than before. How was it that she dreamed of a being from books that she had previously never read? However, she had long ago learned that asking such questions only lead to another visit from a new doctor. She had to put those thoughts away.

Life was going surprisingly well for Evelyn. She had graduated from high school and now was ready to set off on an adventure like never before, she was heading to college. Despite her vivid dreams and obsessive consumption of Irish mythology, she had dreams of veterinary school. Humans could be callous, they doubted and thought of those different as being insane. Animals however, held no such judgments. The domesticated sort were kind and generous with more love in their hearts than any other being, and the wild sort were noble in their own way. Perhaps what she admired of them was their honesty. A lioness will bring down a wildebeest without remorse, but it does so to feed its kin and never creates the illusion of tameness. A man however, will claim to be a gentleman only to shoot his wife in the back.

Yes, animals were far superior to people. Evelyn knew this as one of the few certainties in life.

Upon finishing her morning preparations, Evelyn set out for the day with a grim smile on her face. Today was the anniversary of that dream, three long years ago. She dreaded the night as it was always on the anniversary of said dream that it came to her most vividly again. Tonight she knew that she would relive the moment in utter clarity, however this time, unlike the first, with no will to change it. She would be trapped in her body and forced to watch the fair elf die once more.

How cruel life can be.

* * *

Somewhere, far away, Varda watched over a young human girl. There was something special in her, something that drove her to a place far away three fateful years ago. Her blood was mixed, a tinge of something greater in it. How a human child had come upon such blood so was a mystery to the great queen. She knew however, that the young girl had changed much.

The lovely elven lord was meant to die in a valiant effort to slay the Balrog. The beast was then to chase down the survivors of the beautiful city and lay waste to its refugees. Middle Earth was destined to fall into dark days and only later be rescued by a coalition of men alone. It seemed that fate was moving and the ripples had cast out through time. Middle Earth would have a slightly longer reprieve of light, but dark days were still ahead.

Varda turned to her husband, a smile gracing her lips and he knew what she would ask. He also knew that he would concede. The girl, her fate was now intwined with that of the land they were tasked with watching over. She now had a role to play. However, she could not do it alone. Many would be needed to turn the tide on the war which in a way was partially their fault for it was one of their kin who began this so long ago.

The fair one, the Golden Haired Balrog Slayer must be sent back. He must be released from the Halls of Mandos to walk Middle Earth again.

"We must give him purpose," she said, ever seeing eyes watching said elf listlessly roam Mandos' halls. "He must have a reason to live until she arrives."

"Indeed," replied Manwe. "The young lord, Elrond, the one of Maiar blood. I sense that he has many trials ahead. We shall entrust the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower to his care."

She smiled. In a flash, said elf was whisked from Mandos' halls and dumped into a raging river. The current pulled at the figure, bare a newborn and blissfully unconscious until it dumped him at its bank. Far off, in a rather comfortable study, a dark haired elf looked up with sudden awareness. Something was stirring in his land.

He knew not what it was, but a nagging pull at him mind drew him to investigate on his own. Some sort of intuition that had always been a companion of his foresight. He left his office in a hurry, not even bothering to inform the dark haired advisor who nearly gaped at his lord's abrupt exit.

The elf, Lord Elrond, rushed to change from his stately robes into riding clothes. He grabbed a horse from the stables and flew out of Imaldris, letting his intuition guide him to the river Bruinen. As he approached, he saw what must have drawn him from his home. Along the banks, a male figure was splayed out, lazy currents lapping at his bare sides. When Elrond got closer, he could see that this figure was an elf with a mane of golden hair and a serene expression on his face. The elf was unfamiliar, and Lord Elrond knew every elf in Imaldris.

He approached with caution, however the healer in him urged him forward to kneel at the elf's side. He had no apparent physical wounds, however upon placing his hand on the elf's brow, the figure stirred. The golden haired elf opened his eyes and blearily took in the form above him. Steely grey eyes and dark hair, he raised a shaking hand upwards.

"Earendil?" He asked in a shaking voice.

Elrond was momentarily taken aback. It had been ages since he had heard his father's name spoken in such a manner, a manner of familiarity and perhaps even desperation.

"_No my friend, I am Elrond,_" he once more searched the face of this strange elf, desperately trying to place from where he might have come. "_What is your name?_"

The figure stirred, he could feel the dark caress of sleep tugging at the back of his mind; yet, he looked upwards at those grey eyes which he could swear he knew. The words which the elf above him spoke were unfamiliar, some strange dialect that he knew not. Those clear eyes shining with concern however seemed to ask him a question. _Where am I? _He wondered. _Who are you?_

In a moment of clarity he realized that this elf- _not Earendil if his reaction to the name was any indication,_ was likely wondering as to his identity. The waves of sleep were tugging relentlessly at his mind and he lost all care for formal introductions and titles.

"Laurefindil," he whispered in a hoarse croak before giving in once more to the throes of sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

lrond took a step back in shock. _Laurefindil, he said Laurefindil. As in the legend now called Glorfindel! _He didn't know what to think. Said elf had been slain by a Balrog centuries before, back when all elves spoke Quenya, the age of legends. He himself was a legend, the elf who stood against a Balrog and lost his life to slay a beast and save his people. _Could this naked elf washed upon the shores of the Brunin really be the legend?_

Nevertheless, it seems that Elrond's curiosity had to wait. He was obviously exhausted and his unconsciousness worried Elrond. If he had been sent back by the Valar then it would certainly be a first. He quickly pulled his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around the unconscious elf. He then lifted the limp form into his arms and mounted his horse with only a slight amount of difficulty. Centuries of practice as a healer had caused such skill to become a regular requirement. As he sat on his faithful steed he found his eyes too often drawn from the path and towards the face of his charge. The elf certainly looked every inch the being of legend. A wild mane of impossibly golden hair framed a pale face with high cheekbones, a wise looking brow, and sharp jawline. His shoulders were broad and countenance tall, even his hands were large and appeared strong. There was no denying that this elf was a formidable warrior.

The ride back to Imaldris took considerably longer than Elrond's wild excursion out, however it was not long before he found the gates to his beloved home nearing. A small party of elves was gathered at the front with a rather flustered looking Erestor speaking with rapid hand motions to the leader of said guards.

"My Lord," Erestor called in a voice of half exasperation and half relief. "You left in such a hurry without a word I was concerned that something-" the dark haired Elf paused upon seeing the form in his Lord's arms. "Who is that?"

"I am unsure..." Elrond hesitated slightly before deeming it wise for his counselor to bear the same knowledge as he. "He claimed his name was Laurefindil though."

"As in the Balrog Slayer of Gondolin?" Erestor questioned. Now that he was certain that his Lord was safe, the flustered sheen to his eyes waned and the stoic mask of a controlled advisor slipped into place once more.

"I cannot be certain, but my intuition tells me that the Valar have something to do with this," Elrond spoke in his usual firm tone. "For now we will take him to the healing house and wait until he awakens."

Erestor nodded and dismissed the guards to return to their duties. He then moved to turn and walk ahead to the healing houses ignorer to inform them of their new patient. However, he paused slightly and looked back at the still elf still resting in Lord Elrond's embrace. There certainly was something different about him, and aura that was not of Middle Earth.

"If he is indeed Valar sent," Erestor spoke quietly with a contemplative tone. "Then is mustn't be without reason. May Eru help us."

Elrond merely nodded as Erestor turned once more to walk ahead, knowing that Lord Elrond would not let the patient out of his grasp until he was certain that the elf would receive the proper care. Erestor's words however, echoed in Elrond's mind as he walked with his charge. _What would cause the Valar to send back a hero from his rest? Is our need to be truly so great?_

* * *

It had been a little over a week since the strange new elf arrived and Imaldris was still buzzing with the news. The golden haired elf truly was the legendary Glorfindel of Gondolin. He had awoken after a few hours rest in the healing halls and after a moment of confusion caused by the fog of weariness, he was able to explain his tale. Yes, the Valar did send him back to Middle Earth, he knew not entirely why. The only exception to this was that he felt a strange connection to Lord Elrond, the son of Earendil, a close friend. The young Lord had proven himself to be a wise and capable figure, well versed in both the beauty and tragedy of the world. He sat for many hours with Glorfindel, the name he now chose to go by as many already spoke to him so, and learned of all that had transpired in Middle Earth since his passing. He mourned that his beloved city had not rebuilt and wept over the kinslayings that came after him. However, he found hope in the promise of a brighter future, of this gem of a city tucked away in the valleys.

As for language, the Sindarin now commonly spoken amoung the elves was simple enough for him to pick up as it did indeed seem like a simpler version of his usual Quenya, if a little less musical to his ears. Luckily the transition was smoothed by most members of Lord Elrond's household speaking Quenya and able to mix the vocabularies enough for him to understand. Nevertheless, Glorfindel was a quick study and soon found himself speaking with a marginal level of fluidity.

The few days since his waking had been busy indeed. The reborn elf son found himself pledging his loyalty to Lord Elrond and being almost immediately promoted to Captain of the Guard. He had a vivacious air around him, a love of life that was nearly infections. His eyes were constantly twinkling in merriment and he was quick to laugh. It was not uncommon to find him out on the practice fields, his deadly sword glittering in the sun as he sparred with a line of ellons and ellas alike, all eager for a chance to cross blades with the famed warrior. He always won these matches, but always did so with grace, never failing to offer a hand to assist in standing and quite often a few tips for next time.

By all measures, he appeared to take his re-embodiment well and quickly slid into the hearts of many. Even those who he knew not, though he was quick to learn faces and names (a well practiced skill he learned when previously lord of his house), he was always offered a quick smile or a deferential nod. It seemed that he had spent the previous several centuries coming to terms with the life he had lost. He knew that the vast majority of those he loved must have been long since dead and that the world would change without him. This acceptance must have made the transition smoother.

By all measures he seemed content with his new life in Imaldris, with his new duties of training the guards and securing the safety of the house; as alongside his merriment and zeal for life, he was ever vigilant of his duties and quickly was seen as one capable of a severe glare to rival Elrond's. Nonetheless, the elves of Imaldris loved him and he appeared to love them.

This however was why it seemed so strange for Elrond to find said elf brooding silently in an abandoned corridor, his gaze turned towards a tapestry on the wall. Elrond silent walked until he stood behind Glorfindel and looked over his shoulder at what drew the elf's gaze. It was a depiction of Gondolin on the day that it fell. The fires of the burning city blazed brightly whilst smoke billowed into the air. On the far right, elves of all ages, many young, were fleeing with fear plastered across their faces and holding in their hands any manger belonging that they could carry.

What truly drew the eye however, was the center; for the centerpiece of the grand tapestry was the Lord Glorfindel himself, golden hair fanning around his head, eyes burning brightly, shoulders squared defiantly back as his sword was raised in a glittering point of deadly precision to face off against the hulking beast of a Balrog whose black eyes burned with evil. The tapestry was truly a work of art. The elves who designed it had painfully stitched real mithril thread to form Glrofindel's sword and shining breastplate, even outlined his eyes with a hint of its sheen so that even in the darkened corridor the image seemed to sparkle with life.

For many moment Elrond stood and patiently waited, for he knew that Glrofindel was aware of his presence. The golden haired elf remained silent until he realized that the Lord of Imaldris would hear his words no matter what.

"The image is wrong," he spoke quietly.

Elrond was startled. He had imagined that the warrior would be mourning the day it depicted, perhaps feeling guilt or loneliness at being the only one reborn.

"How so?" he injured, curiosity now significantly raised.

"I was not alone that day. I could not have slain the Balrog alone."

"I have never read any such account," Elrond spoke slowly, mind racing at this new information.

"It did not occur at the cliff's edge, it was after we fell," Glorfindel spoke as if in a trance. "The blow I delivered to him was not mortal, when we landed he recovered sooner than me and attacked, he split me open and I was certain to travel to Mandos' halls." He paused and rubbed an arm slowly across his stomach as if he could still feel the wound. "The Balrog should have finished me then, but she appeared as if from nowhere. She distracted the beast, drew it away so I could slay it. Of course, it was already to late for me... but she held me. This mortal girl held me close and spoke to me, telling me that my people were safe, that I had succeeded and that they would survive by my hand." His eyes grew distant as he spoke. "I do not even know her name."

"I don't think anyone ever knew," Elrond spoke after processing Glorfindel's words. "I wasn't even aware of any mortals in Gondolin."

"She was unlike any mortal I have ever met," he smiled sadly. "She was young, barely out of the cusp of childhood with hair as dark as yours my Lord. However... she bore wings."

"Wings?" Elrond echoed. "Perhaps you were mistaken mellon nin. There has never been such a thing as a mortal child with wings. Mayhaps it was a trick of the smoke, the blood still rushing through your veins."

"Nay, I am certain of it," he spoke with the solid resolution of one who had though of such things thoroughly many times over. "I saw them raise above her head as she distracted the beast and I felt them brush against my skin as she cradled me close. They were like the wings of a grand bird." He paused once more as he contemplated whether or not he should continue. In the end, his desire to confide in another won out as he finally admitted, "and I have seen them many times since in my dreams. Every night I dream of that fateful day, of her eyes gazing into mine as I die."

Lord Elrond stood quietly in contemplation. This news was shocking of course, but he had just recently become the host and apparently lord of a re-born, Valar sent warrior of old. It would take more than this to truly rattle him.

"Then we will have the tapestry amended. Our best seamstress will add this brave soul in right away and the true story of that fateful day will be spread out," he spoke with a smile, the Lore Master in him bleeding through as he was determined to honor this unsung hero. "If she was indeed Edan as you have described, then she is surly dead by now. Nonetheless, her legacy will not be forgotten."

It seemed as if the Perehdel's words soothed Glorfindel's troubled soul as the smile once again returned to his face. He turned to his Lord and bowed graciously. Before joining him for that afternoon's tea. Later that day he had much more to attend to: training with his guards, tending to his weapons, and dreaded paperwork that he seemed just unable to avoid. He was back to his cheerful and good natured self in no time.

However, deep in the back of his mind that young girl still remained, her tear stained face a haunting image that on occasion distracted him during the day and so often drew him in at night. He would not forget that face, and he would always remember her as the one who saved his people, the one who held him as he passed. Her image would never leave him as long as he lived.


	5. Chapter 5

Evelyn was exhausted, yet dreaded sleep that night. She knew deep down that the anniversary of that dream would haunt her in its most vivid form and she could not bare it. How the death of a fictional character whose identity she knew not could haunt her so much was a mystery to her, but she bore the burden of it nonetheless. That night she tried valiantly to stay awake, armed with a tub of ice cream and a movie marathon on Netflix she sought to avoid the throes of sleep. Yet, she eventually lost that battle.

As Evelyn slowly came into consciousness she found herself splayed out with towering trees rising above her. She fumbled her hands and found cool dirt covered with leaf litter below her. _Strange. _She couldn't recall falling asleep in the woods...

Suddenly, the memory hit her. It was the anniversary of the dream, the night where she knew that she would be assaulted with that terrible vision and be forced to relive it as if it were reality. She had tried so hard to stay awake and yet obviously failed in that task... _but how did I get here? _She asked herself.

Slowly standing up, she examined the woods around her. Trees rose up higher than she had ever seen and there seemed to be a dark shadow across the land, as if something more than branching canopies blocked out the sun. As she looked down upon herself she noticed that she was still clothed in her pajamas and frowned in thought. She was further distressed by a feeling on her back- there was a twitch.

Turning suddenly she craned her neck to see her back, in a move that to an outside observer would seem like a dog chasing its tail, and found two massive feathery appendages protruding from her shoulder blades. She gaped in shock. She had wings?! Her mind began to race until she recalled that haunting dream, in it she had wings. She remembered the way they felt as they rose in power when she commanded the beast to turn, she remembered the way they fluttered with apprehension and distress upon watching the fair being fall, and she remembered how they fell forward to cocoon both her and the fair being as she watched the life fade from his eyes.

They were here. _That must mean the I'm still dreaming... but how?_ She wondered. This felt exactly as real as her dream did all those nights ago, but never before had it changed. Even though the forest held an air of foreboding around it, it was nothing close to the nightmare she was used to. A light breeze played with tendrils of her hair and ruffled the feathers of her wings. She closed her eyes at the sensation as she could feel every single feather shaft, the way the wind lightly tickled and the soothing feeling of the feathers settling once more.

When she opened her eyes she decided that she must explore, she had to find out where she was and what was going on. It seemed that this dream, even if ver real feeling, had the potential to be more pleasant than the last. She walked resolutely forward, one foot after the other, relishing in the feeling of soft earth and crackling leaves beneath her bare feet. She was chilled slightly by the breeze, but soon found that she could wrap her wings around herself to keep off the chill. This of course seemed altogether ridiculous, but she thought _hey, if my dream gives me wings then I might as well use them._ The thought of flight of course crossed her mind several times, however her fear of heights, uncertainty as to if those wings would actually work, and the density of the sturdy looking trees ensured that such thoughts were quickly pulled from her mind. She would continue to walk.

After several hours however, Evelyn was growing frustrated. This was a boring dream indeed if it were to only be her walking through the woods alone with wings. It was also much longer than the last vivid dream she had. That one took place over the course of no more than an hour, this time she was certain that she had been walking for several. Just as feelings of exasperation crossed her mind once more to make her wish for something _interesting_ to happen, her wish was granted.

From out of the treetops a massive spider, about the size of a small horse, flung itself towards Evelyn. She shrieked in shock and dodged out of the way of the massive pincers, just barely missing them. Having fallen on her back she scuttled backwards until her back hit a thick tree trunk, forcing her to stand once more. The hulking thing was hideous, six glowing eyes seemed to gleam with joy as it raised tis massive black pincers, all eight legs moving forward as it slowly approached. Evelyn was frozen in shock, never had she witnessed such a sight and she was drawn briefly into the memory of the beast in her other dream.

_But is this a dream?_ her mind so helpfully supplied. _What if this is all real? It certainly feels real._

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and thus broke the spell of stillness that had come over her. Making up her mind in a sudden moment she decided that it was best not to tempt fate. If this were real, she would survive. In a move that shocked both the spider and herself she turned and ran, fleeing as fast as her legs could carry her. The spider quickly took to chasing its prey and was rapidly gaining on the poor girl. Eight legs against two, the girl's small size was the only advantage she had. She was ducking under every low branch she could find, but she was also panicked and clumsy, stumbling and nearly tripping several times.

"Help!" she cried out with all her might, tears streaming down her face at the realization that the spider was nearly upon her. She prayed to any deity that might be out there that there would be someone in this desolate forest.

Finally, one massive tree root was just a little too tall for her stumbling form and she tripped, sprawling herself out on the ground. The spider was quickly upon her and jabbed its pincer down right as Evelyn attempted to roll over. It was no use however, the massive pincer pierced her leg and drew a gash down the length of Evelyn's calf. She felt a searing pain take over and her wings fluttered in panic as the poison quickly entered her bloodstream. It was like her leg was on fire. She cried out in pain and slapped down in defeat, waiting for the beast to make her its meal.

Then, a slight whistle sounded past her ear and a loud thud was heard behind her. She froze and no more sounds came. Slowly building up her courage, she took a few deep breaths before rising up onto her elbows and turning to look over her shoulder. Every move felt like agony, but she managed to glimps the giant spider slumped over, dead with a single gold fletched arrow protruding from directly between its two largest eyes.

A whisper of wind stirred near her head and she slowly turned to fine another arrow, just as deadly looking, pointed directly between her eyes. Fear hammered at her hear as her eyes traced the arrow up to a beautiful man, dressed in dark greens and brown, oaken colored hair, and finally pointed ears. _An elf?!_ Evelyn's mind raced just as the six more appeared soundlessly around him- around her. They had her surrounded.

"What are you and business do you have in the Woodland Realm?" he questioned imperiously, voice strangely accented.

_The Woodland Realm?_ Evelyn's mind wondered. Suddenly it clicked, _eerie forest, giant spiders, elves, and the Woodland Realm... I'm in Mirkwood. This is Tolkein?!_ She gasped at the sudden realization, however before she could manage a response the pain in her leg pulsed with agony. She drew in a rapid breath and watched as the fair faced beings began to double, only to fade. Darkness was calling and she wondered if was waking up.

* * *

Evelyn groaned and began to slowly awaken. She felt sore and slightly achy, like she had done a hard day's work of gardening before falling asleep. She yawned and turned over in bed, only to be whacked in the head by something soft and rather muscular. Eyes opening slowly she notices a massive, black feathered wing pushing on her cheek, only to sit up with a sudden jolt. Her memories came back in a flash and she looked down to find herself on a strange bed in an ominous stone room that looked far too much like a cave for her comfort. This was also the moment when she realized that her dream had perhaps gone a bit too far. Never before had she fallen asleep and then woken up once more whilst in a dream. She was starting to believe that maybe this wasn't quite a dream.

Rolling her shoulders and then, experimental, her wings, she found that her body was still relatively function despite the dull ache. She had no more time to contemplate the thin white dress she was clothed in before her door was thrown open with a flourish. Two tall, fully armored elves stepped in keeping their eyes straight ahead whilst a third, help tucked beneath his arm walked in. All three were male, slender, and impossibly tall. The unhelmed one turned to Evelyn and with that same, strangely accented voice commanded her.

"The King of the Woodland Realm order for your immediate attendance. Stand." Evelyn froze at the voice before hesitantly finding hers.

"How long was I..." her voice grew hoarse and she shakily reached for a small wooden cup filled with what she presumed was water next to her.

"You slept for three days," the commanding elf answered her unfinished question. "Stand," he once again repeated with a voice indicating that this was not merely a polite request.

Evelyn rose on shaking legs, there was a slight pounding in her head and she willed away the instant feeling of nausea that swept over her. She began to walk, the ridged elf leading the way with his silent two companions flanking her on either side. _The King of the Woodland Realm _she thought. _If I'm truly in Mirkwood, then that must be Thranduil._ She immediately wracked her brain for every bit of knowledge that she held of Mirkwood and its king. She could only assume that she had somehow landed in the Third Age of Middle Earth, but exactly when she was she was uncertain.

A small spark of hope alighted in her chest as she realized that there was a chance for her to do something. _Perhaps I can change things for the better,_ she thought. She knew however, that she would have to be careful. Knowledge is dangerous and what would happen if she were to give too much away? She could make things worse. Resolutely, she decided that she would first determine at what point in time exactly she was in. From there, she would explain her situation to the King and from there, request to speak with either Galadriel or perhaps Gandalf. They would certainly know what to do.

As the walk continued however, her plan quickly seemed rather intimidating. The tight corridors had given way to thin walkways made of massive tree roots with a massively arched ceiling revealing a vast chamber. With each step her apprehension grew and she found her wings twitching despite the suspicious glances of the guards station on either side of her. No one had spoken to her since she left the chamber and she was starting to feel increasingly nervous.

_Calm down,_ she thought to herself, attempting to breath deeply. _What do I know about Thranduil? If there are giant spiders then it must be Mirkwood now, so his wife is probably dead... he has a son Legolas who either is or is going to be super important... Tolkien thought that he could be arrogant at times but he was a good King... oh come on Evelyn, he wears different branches in his crown for the seasons, he can't be that bad. _

By the time they reached the throne room, Evelyn was practically quivering with fear and held together only by some desperate plea that the Sindarin elf would be in a good mood. What she saw as she entered however took her breath away. The throne was massive, covered in elk antlers rising up on a platform practically suspended in the air. The ceiling was breathtakingly high and her head began to swim when she looked down and found the chasm below to be endless. Her knees quaked as she was pushed forward to the foot of a small flight of stairs. Hesitantly, her eyes moved upwards and she saw the elf sitting on the steps, long limbed and elegant, white-blond hair spilled out beneath a massive crown of thorns accented slightly with autumn leaves. His robes were of shivering silver and his skin was as pale as moonlight, he looked like a wrathful ghost. Cold ice blue eyes gazed down at Evelyn with utter contempt and perhaps just the slightest bit of curiosity.

_Remember, Elves are good,_ Evelyn chanted to herself in her head, casting her eyes downward as she found it impossible to meet the King's icy stare.

"So you are the little creature they found trespassing in my lands," he asked. His voice haughty with the tone of one used to being obeyed, words slipping from his lips like silk. "What are you?"

Evelyn froze, words of reassurance that she was there by mistake, that had much to say but needed to know the date dying at her throat. _What am I?_ she asked herself, unsure of how to respond. She knew she was human, and such would be the obvious reply if not for her wings. The King's eyes however were boring into her skull and she knew that he demanded an answer.

"I- I am unsure, your Majesty," she added quickly, still not meeting his eyes. "The last I remember I was- am human... but now I have wings," she cringed internally and the wings on her back fluttered in nervousness as she realized how idiotic she sounded.

"You _now_ have wings," he drawled, sounding utterly bored.

"That is unimportant you Majesty," she hurriedly cut in, a slight surge of courage rushing through her. "I have important knowledge that I wish to share, but I must first know the date." She finished her words in a half-whispered hurry, eyes still downcast.

"_You found this one where?_" Thranduil asked the guard in Sindarin.

"_Along our southern boarder my King, she was being attacked by a lone spider,_" he answered curtly.

"It is in your best interest to tell me what you are. And why must you know the date, Crebain?" Thranduil questioned, eyes accusing and voice ice cold.

"Please," Evelyn started, worry and panic clouding her mind. "I do not know why I have wings but you must believe me, I want to help. I just need to know the date," she all but pleaded.

"You are a spy," he stated bluntly, halfway to raising his hand inorder to have his guards escort her to his dungeons.

"No," she gasped, rushing forward until she was at the foot of his stairs. "Please just tell me the date! Greenwood has obviously become Mirkwood, but what else?" she gasped. Her panic caused her to miss the nearly imperceivable twitch of the elvenking's eyebrow at the nickname for his beloved forest. Later, when given ample time to contemplate Evelyn would realize that this was her first fatal mistake.

"What about dwarves, have you had any dwarves pass through your lands?" she asked, still grasping at straws and still not noticing the fire in his eyes at the mention of the recent (at least in elven time) sting of the escapees. This was of course Evelyn's second fatal mistake.

"Your son!" she cried, a sudden idea in her mind. "Does Legolas still dwell here, or is he... elsewhere."

Those words put a seal on her fate. They were her third and final fatal mistake. Although King Thranduil could be a fair and just ruler, he was prone to having a temper most especially where his personal life was concerned. His beloved son had abandoned him, left the Woodland Realm and traveled off somewhere whilst Thranduil knew not if he even still lived, and this girl had come in and wretched his heart once more. He rose from his seat in fury and glided down the steps till he could lean his face in close to hers.

The bravery had all but vanished from Evelyn by the time Thranduil made it down those steps and gazed into her eyes. She could feel the fury riding off the elvenking in waves as she forced herself not to stumble backwards with some steel she was unaware of possessing.

"You trespass in my realm, disrespect my lands, and speak of things which you know not. You are either a spy of the enemy or some other form of evil mischief," he practically spat the words, baring his teeth like a hungry wolf. "You will rot until you tell me what you are and why you are here."

He rapidly stood and turned his back on Evelyn, mounting the stairs and flicking his hands at his guards. The seized Evelyn's arms and dragged her backwards towards the exit of the throne rooms and the dungeons deep within the caves.

"Wait!" Evelyn called, but it was too late. The King of the Woodland Realm was not one to waiver often in his decision and she had seared his heart with her words. It was unlikely for his ager at her to dissipate.

The guards dragged Evelyn along, uncaring for her cries or pleas until they reached the lowest, darkest, and dankest section of the caves. They opened an iron door and threw her in a tiny cell before slamming it shut and walking away.

Evelyn looked around her and saw a bucket in one corner, and a small pile of hay in the other. Sniffling lightly, she crawled over the hay pile and cried. She was scared, lost, and utterly alone.


	6. Chapter 6

_Three weeks..._

For the first several weeks of her imprisonment, Evelyn wept and cried. She pleaded with the guards and begged them for an audience with the King. After four more audiences in the throne room where she attempted to explain that she was unsure as to how she gained her wings, but if he would only tell her the year she could answer some of his questions, they stopped entertaining her requests.

During her last visit to the throne room she attempted to explain how the stories of Middle Earth were written in her world as mere novels and that as such was the reason why she knew things that only a spy would know. Instead of gaining acceptance, Thranduil became even more enraged and reaffirmed his stance that Evelyn must be something of evil and mischievous intent. He refused all requests to entertain her and instructed for his guards to speak not with their strange prisoner. Evelyn even suspected that he had ordered for only guards who spoke no English, or Common apparently, to stand by her cell and bring her thrice daily meals.

Eventually, Evelyn gave up attempting to speak with them.

All humans, even those lovers of solitude such as Evelyn, need some form of social contact. It is in the very nature of the species to seek out solstice in others, and Evelyn had none. Over the weeks her raw fear dissipated as the body can only produce so much terror before it grows weary. Instead her fear was replaced with anguish. She was lonely in a way that bore deep into her soul. Not a single being would speak to her, the guards refused to even acknowledge her presence, and there was nothing for her to occupy her time with save the slow dripping of water in one damp corner of her cell.

She spent her days in a listless haze, thinking of all that she missed in her world, and all that had gone wrong in this one. She went over the conversations in the throne room with meticulous detail in her mind and found every single fault in the conversation, every single place where her words had sealed her fate. This analyzing however proved to be the doorway to a dangerous route. She soon found herself walking down a path which wove and twisted in perilous ways, questioning every word, every movement, and every breath that she took in Middle Earth. _Perhaps if I had not mentioned Legolas, perhaps if I had asked the guard more or fewer questions before reaching Thranduil, perhaps if I had spoken with more force, perhaps if I had bowed lower..._ the list went on. In truth, such introspections seemed less and less productive with every moment spent in contemplation. The circumstances never changed, but her mind warped them nonetheless.

She found herself drawing her knees up to her chest, resting her chin upon them and wrapping her wings around her body, rocking slowly back and forth for some form of comfort. Her wings, though strange and wrong in her mind somehow felt comforting and warm. When her hands ran across them she found lean muscle and smooth feathers black as a starless sky. She would slip her fingers beneath the hard flight pinions and tickle the soft underdown. It was a small but vital comfort that she took.

One day, her loneliness was broken in the most unexpected of ways, she had fallen asleep on her manger straw pile and was awoken by a soft, scuttling sound. Opening her eyes, she was confronted by a rat, a tiny, tawny brown thing with a pink nose and twitching whiskers. Massive black eyes gazed at Evelyn and she found herself staring back, unblinkingly. Moving slowly, as to not startle the creature, she traced her hand across the stone until she came to her half eaten lunch. She pinched off a piece of the stale bread and offered it to the rodent. The little creature sniffed it with suspicion for several moments before lifting it in its tiny front paws and nibbling on it delicately.

Evelyn smiled. This was the first creature in weeks to actually look her in the eyes. She had forgotten that warm feeling in ones chest that they get from a friend. _A friend, yes a friend. _She smiled as she offered her fingers forward, watching with mild surprise as the rat sniffed them and allowed for her to touch its soft fur. Her grin grew as the little creature crawled into the palm of her hand, snuggling its ticklish whiskers against the flesh of her thumb, maneuvering itself into a comfortable position.

This little creature, one whom the elves would likely consider vermin, trusted and loved her for the sake of just a small morsel of stale bread. It was the first living being to offer warmth and companionship, the first friend for her in this strange new world. Oh how that created soothed Evelyn's aching soul.

"You are very quick to trust my little friend," she whispered, voice hoarse from disuse as she had given up on speaking when it became clear that the elves around her understood her naught. "I supposed I must give you a name."

As she spoke those words the rat yawned and stretched out like a mini cat, dexterous pink paws looking all too human like as it flexed its digits, and scratched its side like a dog might. _Yes, _Evelyn thought, _I think this must be my new friend. _

"Perhaps I will call you Tawny, for the color of your fur," she said. The little creature snuggled closer into her hand in what must have been some form of accepting its new name. Evelyn moved her hand containing Tawny to snuggle against her breast quickly falling back asleep with the steady, if rapid, rise and fall of the sleeping rat's chest beating near her heart.

_Four months..._

Weeks turned to months and all traces of fear faded. Fear is a temporary emotion, it cannot be endured long. Instead, Evelyn became bored.

_Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen... and seventeen. _

She counted the paces in her head. Every day, approximately 1800 seconds after the fourth changing of guards, a soldier would open the door with a slight creek and walk the seventeen paces to her cell. This, without fail, was how she received her breakfast of mashed gruel each morning. She knew it was morning as oat porridge would only make sense as a breakfast and as she sometimes could watch the third set of guards yawning and attempting to pretend that they were not sleeping with their eyes open. Also, her little rat Tawny always became most active during the shifts of the third and fourth guard and she knew rats to be nocturnal creatures.

Evelyn had taken to counting to ease her boredom and had quickly memorized the habits of the guards. She counted four changes of guard a day with the dismissal of the fourth batch as the morning shift. She knew how many paces it took to reach her cell, the door, and the small table where the night guards would occasionally indulge in a game of cards to stave off boredom.

The routine of the guards was terrifyingly simple and soon Evelyn found herself tiring of counting their every move. Instead, she turned to watching the guards themselves. She knew that each set of guards were a pair and meant to be guarding the entire dungeon, within which she was the sole prisoner. Although there were four sets of guards a day, there were six different shifts of them and they seemed assigned in a steady and rotating schedule. This of course made twelve guards and soon Evelyn knew them all.

She created nicknames as they were careful to keep information, even as simple as their name, from her...

There were the "oak brothers," for she was certain they were brothers, who had dark brown hair the color of aged oak and both were quite stern. As Evelyn of course suspected it was an act each brother put on for the other. As they were elves, their ages were difficult to tell, however she could certainly identify the slightly taller one as the younger brother as though both bore the markings of the same rank, he always differed to the other...

There were also the "secret lovers" as she saw the way the ellon and ellath looked at one another when they thought all backs were turned. The pair was a handsome couple if Evelyn were to admit it, however the way their eyes lingered on each other at times felt nearly sickening. Evelyn took secret glee in knowing their secret as they seemed to believe that they had the kingdom fooled...

Of course, there were the other four pairs who she knew just as well, noting every detail, no matter how small, about them. She also quickly noticed something that Tolkien never mentioned in his books, that is- the braids. It seemed that all the elven warriors wore their hair in some sort of braid, most often the same small braids along either temple that she wore. Part of Evelyn seethed at this as she did not like the idea of styling herself after these pretentious immortals, but another small part of her remained attached to the style she had born for so long. Due to this, Evelyn ensured that the hair atop her head always covered her two small braids, just as it had when she was first captured and dragged before Thranduil.

Evelyn soon knew their schedules, their movements, and about as much about them as she could and she was terribly bored.

As her mind grew bored however, Evelyn turned to training her body. She began slowly at first with push-ups, squats, and even pull-ups on bars of her cell that she had not done since middle school fitness tests. As time moved on though, she began more complete movements. She began to stretch and pull on her wings, prating beating motions with them until she felt the muscles ache for it was better for her to feel bone weary and ache all over than to feel nothing at all. She fought imaginary enemies with sweeping kicks and hard punches, always making sure to do so when the guards were far enough from her cell to not suspect much.

As Evelyn trained however, she quickly noticed something odd, her body responded as it had never done so in the past. Her limbs were more flexible, more supple, and she seemed to grow in strength far more rapidly than she had ever done so before. She was becoming strong.

Soon, each time Evelyn curled up on herself she could feel the muscles bulging beneath the silky feats of her wings, she could feel the subtle curve of her calves which had completely healed from the spider bite. Every part of Evelyn's body grew into lean muscle whilst her movements become faster and more precise.

With this training she found herself no longer in the throes of despair or the utter indifference that came with boredom, instead something else was growing in her heart- rage. Not even her small companion, Tawny, who always came back to her side could ease her heart. These creatures, the elves, despised her for no reason but her strangeness. She heard what they called her, _Crebain, _like the evil ilk birds of Sauron. They saw her wings and deemed her evil.

"How can they judge my heart when they know me not," she whispered to the little rat as she stroked its fur. "I only wished to help them and they scorned and forgot about me."

She now often found herself speaking to Tawny, sometimes outlaid and sometimes in her head. Nevertheless, the tiny creature always seemed to understand and Evelyn swore she could occasionally see it nodding its head. There were some days where it seemed to speak back. Once, an elf who Evelyn could only assume to be a captain came unexpectedly into the dungeon for a spot check. Evelyn had not been expecting another elf for at least two hundred and forty minutes and was midway through a drill of kicks and jabs that she had made up for herself when Tawny came bursting into her cell, squeaking in alarm. Some sort of instinct within Evelyn caused her to immediately understand that someone was coming and she dropped into the furthest corned, curled into a ball wrapped with her wings, and tucked Tawny deep within her feathers.

Minutes later, the "Captain" marched in with an air of importance, spoke with the guards rapidly in Sindarin, and then marched up and down the dungeon several times, each time peering into Evelyn's cell as if he expected for her to suddenly decide to run.

Evelyn met his gaze each time, rage simmering below the surface. _How dare he._ She found herself nearly shaking. He knew nothing about her and judged her so. _I know more about their pompous King than he will ever know about me. _She thought, these words and found her rage only grew as she contemplated her grand dreams to help Mirkwood be returned to Greenwood the Great, how she once wished to save lives and maybe even Middle Earth.

Now she just bided her time, training her body and watching the guards move as if they were impassible.

_Three years... _

Three years had passed... three years of biding her time in hell, the changing of the guards the only indication time passing. Evelyn found her body stronger, her mind sharper, and the her rage had moved from a blazing flame to something much more dangerous, an ice cold spire buried deep in her heart. It was like an icicle sharpened by the howling winds of midwinter: cold, sharp, and absolutely deadly.

The elves had made a mockery of her innocence and after years of imprisonment, Evelyn had the choice of breaking into despair, or rising with fury at her heels. Part of her wanted to reveal all that she knew in one fell swoop, to watch all of Middle Earth die as such foreknowledge would almost certainly result in the failure of the forces of good. But, enough her her childlike kindness remained to tell her that the other races of Middle Earth were not to blame for the arrogance of the elves. The elves alone were to be held accountable for their actions. They were vain, stubborn, and pride had made them foolhardy. They saw all others as beneath them and cared not for the fates of other creatures. It was a wonder how the last alliance of elves and men ever came to pass. Evelyn could not see any of the elves ever working with another race.

The other races deserved mercy, but the elves deserved none. The elves could burn for all Evelyn cared, and part of her wished to make it happen.

As the years passed, Evelyn also became more and more convinced that Tawny could understand her, and that she could understand the rat in turn. The squeaks and chirps that Tawny made came to mean things in Evelyn's mind, not quite in the conventional way that one understands language, but in a deep and intrinsic manner that tugs on ones soul. She knew when Tawny was trying to alert her to an unexpected change of guards, when the elves slipped an herb designed to lower inhibitions into her porridge, and even when it had been a particularly beautiful day outside.

Evelyn also began to communicate with Tawny. She expressed her anger and hatred, her knowledge of the guards, and even her desire to be free of the cells and feel the breeze, see the changing of the seasons. The next day Tawny proudly dragged a single autumn leaf into Evelyn's cell and she treasured the small gift with all her heart. That night, Evelyn cried for the first time in years as she cradled the little rat close to her heart in one hand, and the delegate leaf in the other. She had not seen a trace of the outside in three years.

Towards the end of Evelyn's third year however, she could tell that not all was well, Tawny was growing slow. The little rat took longer to venture in and out of Evelyn's cell, and whenever she returned she was strangely quiet about where she was. Usually, Evelyn's mind would be assaulted with images of the hallways of Mirkwood's caves, counts of the guards and maps to every exit as Tawny seemed intent on assisting Evelyn in escape in any way she could. Now however, it was clear that Tawny was on the final days of her life.

Evelyn found herself quick to tears, often weeping in Tawny's absence as she knew that she did not have long with her little friend. Several times she asked Tawny to stay with her, to not venture out of her cell. Each time however, the little rat only looked her in the eyes and slowly shook her head. She seemed determined to do one last thing in her final hours.

Finally, the day came. Tawny dragged herself back to Evelyn's cell several hours before the third guard shift of the day, in the dead of night. Tawny's breath was labored and she moved with clumsy, arthritic slowness. Tears clouded Evelyn's eyes as she watched the once bright gaze of the rat growing dim. Without a second thought, she scooped the little creature into there hand and snuggled it close to her, eyes blinking away tears as it nuzzled her thumb, whiskers ticking against her hand one last time. The final thoughts that she felt emerging from the little rat were feelings of love, peace... and hope.

Tawny turned her dark gaze to meet Evelyn's brown eyes and slowly slipped away into a blissful sleep.

Evelyn felt her heart break.

She bent over, a sob tearing from her lips as she watched this little creature, her only friend and only companion for three lonely, terrifying, and infuriating years slip from her hold. There was nothing she could do. The rat was old and tiered, but it still had never failed to bring her joy. Now she was gone and Evelyn was alone once more.

For many hours Evelyn wept, hands cradling the little body as it slowly lost heat and are as cold as the stone surrounding her. When she awoke from her stupor of grief however, she dried her eyes, sniffled, and looked around her cell which now somehow seemed so much emptier. Her gaze then drifted to where Tawny had entered her cell mere hours before... and she nearly fell over in shock.

There, in the little corner crack that Tawny had originally entered from those three years ago, was a shining bronze key.

In a scramble Evelyn rushed forward and grasped the little key, turning it over and over in her hand. She knew what it was instantly. It was the key to her cell.

Little Tawny must have spent those last few days hunting up and down Mirkwood, searching for the key to her cell. Evelyn knew, with that same instinct that allowed her to understand Tawny, that this was the correct key, found in some spare drawer or storage locker, likely forged a millennia, ago and forgotten. Evelyn carefully slipped Tawny's small corpse and the bronze key into her pocket just as the third guard shift entered and took their place.

She shrunk down into the corner, curling her wings around her in mock sleep, hiding her smile. She had a plan. Tawny gave her the tools, soon she would be free.


	7. Chapter 7

_One, two, three..._

Evelyn counted the steps of the fourth shift of guards silently in her head. They were heading towards the small corner table where the night guards spent the majority of their time. It was clear that said table was intended only for the use of storing a water pitcher and cups, but most of the fourth and many of the third shift used it as a spot to sit and pretend to be alert. The elves were far too arrogant for their own good and seemed to think that their sole prisoner could never escape.

As Evelyn had learned through her studies on the elves of Tolkien's Middle Earth, the elves had the ability to sleep with their eyes open so that they maintain a semi alert state. Evelyn's guards often indulged in such a state and slept through their later shifts.

Tonight this would be to her advantage.

_Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen... _

They reached their post and there was a quiet thud as they pulled out their chairs and sat down. Once again, Evelyn began to count. She knew that it took an average of 1650 seconds for the fourth shift guards to fall asleep, but just to be safe she knew that they were always asleep by 3600 seconds. She began her silent counts, biding her time.

Once she was certain that they were asleep, Evelyn rose from where she had curled in on herself. Silent as a shadow, she pulled the sequestered key from her pocket and slid over to the door, unlocking the heavy iron grating without a sound. She paused and held her breath... but there was no response from the guards. It was evident that they were still asleep.

Evelyn then pushed the door open and began creeping down the hallway. The air down there was stifling and held that type of dampness which always seems to inhabit the lower levels of caves. In that moment, a small thrill of exhilaration ran down Evelyn's spine as she realized that those steps were the first steps outside of her cell in two years. For two years the elves had left her to rot. For three years they held her prisoner and for two they kept her locked away in a cell, not even bothering to wonder as to her crime.

Her footsteps were almost as silent as an elf's as she crept across the cold stone floor in her bare feet. She had bonded her sneakers a year and a half ago when they became so ruing by the mould and straw that they were useless. The loss of her shoes however turned out to be a blessing as her feet had become calloused from the rough hewn stone of her cell and she now was able to move in upmost silence.

She approached the sleeping guards and knew that this moment would decide her fate. The two guards posted this night were the ones she deemed "secret lovers." The ellon and ellath had their hands barely brushing each others fingertips and their blond, braided hair brushed against each other's shoulders. To most they would have appeared peaceful, but Evelyn only saw her captors. She knew she had to be swift, and absolute.

With a speed that she never would have had before, Evelyn slid one long knife from the ellon's scabbard and slammed him across the head with it, opening a large cut across his smooth brow. The unfocused gaze of the sleeping elf never had a chance to morph into horror as blood quickly rushed forth from the wound and he slumped over, completely unconscious.

The elleth woke with a start, but hesitated for the briefest of moments as she saw her lover's unconscious form. For Evelyn, this was all the time she needed and she thrust the stolen blade between two of the elleth's ribs. Although Evelyn was furious with the elves, in her heart she was still a young woman and did not know if she could truly stomach the idea of taking life. If her knowledge of human biology would apply to elves, then the wound she made would not be fatal, but by opening a wound in her chest cavity the elleth would likely struggle to breath and thus be unable to call for help or give chase.

Evelyn paused for a few moments to ensure her prediction was correct and quickly noticed the way the elleth gasped for breath, mouth opening as if to speak but only mere whimpers emerged.

A smile split across Evelyn's face.

She withdrew the blade and quickly stripped the ellon of his scabbard containing her stolen knife's twin. She then turned to the elleth and grabbed her bow as well as her thick cloak. She left the quiver of arrows as she knew that she could not conceal it well under the cloak which she quickly pulled over her shoulders, throwing up the hood to hide her face.

She turned to look at the two guards one last time and a twinge of remorse tugged at her heart. She suppressed the feeling ruthlessly. These beings had stolen three years of her life, and she would be damned if she lost her once chance to escape due to her pity. Shaking her head and steeling her nerves once more, Evelyn slid out the dungeon door, head down and hidden in the shadow of her cloak, she walked down the hallway with the manufactured confidence of an elven guard.

Evelyn was careful. She kept to the side of the path and walked at a pace that would indicate haste, but not quite fast enough to raise any alarms. With any luck, any elf she passed would merely assume that she was on an important errand and not bother to disturb her. She knew from observation that the stolen cloak she wore was standard issue among the soldiers of Mirkwood and she could only hope that the elves of Thranduil's realm respected the guard enough to not question her.

The further she walked, the higher Evelyn's heartbeat rose. She winded her way down ornate paths made of stone and wood alike, through dazzling high-ceilinged chambers, and past lanterns lit with what Evelyn could only assume to be oil. The kingdom built into the cave was truly as breathtaking as Evelyn remembered it on her few short trips to greet the Elvenking, but now she had no time to gaze in awe. She spent the majority of her walk with her eyes firmly plated to her feed, watching how the floor changed from aged wood, to surprisingly even set cobblestone, and finally to stone polished as smooth as marble.

Evelyn stopped quickly when a delectable scent tickled at her nose. It had been ages since she last smelled it, but she swore that the delight odor wafting in from a side door was that of apple tarts. Although her common sense told her that stopping would be incredibly dangerous, her diet of bland food for three years made her desperate. With the utmost care, Evelyn peeked around the corner of the door and found an empty kitchen greeting her.

The heavenly scent that had lured her in was coming from the countertop which was adorned with several cooling tarts. Evelyn rushed forward and quickly found a discarded flour sack which she began tossing the tarts in haphazardly. Before she left however, Evelyn noticed a stack of strange, square shaped breads wrapped in large leaves. She took a moment to contemplate this before her mind supplied her with the name, _Lembas. _Her mind raced as she recalled information from her days of elvish research. _One bite is said to fill the stomach of a man, I could eat for weeks on this! _

With she same determination that she had escaped with, Evelyn threw as many hunks of the elvish way bread that she could fit into the sac. For good measure, she added a small pot for boiling water and two empty water skins before slipping out the door once more.

This time she moved with more haste as she knew that her plundering would soon be discovered. Nevertheless, she quickly found a side exit leading to a small waterfall outside, likely the kitchen's main source of water. She gasped in the joy and relief of feeling the fresh air once more and gazed with wonder at the star filled sky above; however her joy was short lived as she knew that the elves would be after her soon.

With utmost care, Evelyn waded out into the stream and began walking downwards, years old Girl Scout training kicking in as she attempted to leave no trail. At the same time however, she was no fool and knew that elves were expert trackers. The further she walked however, the desperate she became as her situation began to sin in fully. She was alone in the woods, surrounded by hostile elves, and carrying only a useless bow and twin blades which she did not truly know how to wield.

As her anger rose however, her wings twitched. Looking over her shoulder at the wings resting on her back, Evelyn contemplated for a moment. She had only ever used them to wrap herself in like a blanket, but she figured that all her strengthening exercises must have done something. The sun was just beginning to rise as streaks of crimson shot across the sky; knowing that she had been walking for several hours and that the first watch of the new day would soon find their fallen companions, Evelyn was getting desperate. With that in mind, she unclasped her stolen cloak and used it to tie the four sac into a makeshift satchel. Steeling her nerves and trying her utmost to ignore her fear of heights, Evelyn began to beat her wings. For a short while there was nothing, no reaction whatsoever. However, soon, Evelyn felt a tugging sensation as she was slowly lifted from the ground. Pulled upwards by the force of her wings, Evelyn felt wind whipping through her hair as the glorious, cool night air caressed her being.

She was free! Well and truly free for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

Her ears, sharper than they had been back at home, picked up on the sound of an outcry below. Elven guards were gathered, watching in horror and fascination as the strange creature rose higher and higher above the clouds.

_Zing_

An arrow whipped past Evelyn's head, missing her ear by a hairsbreadth. It appeared that the archers arrived and they were none too pleased with the mortal's escape. More arrows soon reigned past her in a volley as she swerved and bobbed with all the grace that she could muster for her first flight. Calling upon every memory she had ever had on the wing movements of birds, Evelyn tucked in her wings and dropped into a steep dive, falling at a breakneck pace towards the treetops before flaring her wings out at the last second, raising her high into the sky on an updraft.

She laughed manically at the exhilarating feeling and knew based on instinct that her pursuers were long behind her. Finding a nice looking glade, Evelyn slowed her wingbeats and landed with about as much grace as once could expect from a first flight. She was shaken and quite certain that she was a little mad from her escape, but nonetheless found a small stream nearby and a rather friendly looking tree that she was certain she could climb into to rest.

She filed her waterskis with cool, clear stream water and climbed the tree so that she could lounge in its branches. She then laid back and enjoyed the view of the sun rising in the forest, listening to the birds and crickets chirp. It had been far too long since she had enjoyed such simple pleasures in life and she treasured the feeling greatly.

She knew that there was much still that she had to do. The apple tarts would last for that day, and maybe the day after, the lembas would likely last her two months at least and she knew that freshwater seemed plentiful enough in the forest. In the mean time however, Evelyn had a useless bow that she would have to make arrows for and learn to hunt with. She would also have to worry about the rather angry elves she left behind and probably become a bit more proficient with both her new blades and flying skills.

Nonetheless, she was free. It was a feeling that she had not had in years and her heart felt equally heavy with he burden of her solitude and strange situation, as well as bizarrely light in the face of her newfound freedom.

That night, she dug a small grave and gave Tawny as proper of a burial as she could allow, marking the little grave with smooth quarts stones that she pulled from the nearby stream. She wept over the small grave sight and mourned the fact that she would likely not encounter it again. She knew however, that Tawny would remain in her heart.

Evelyn decided that she would give herself the night to mourn. She could have one night to sit in a tree and wallow in self pity as to how she ended up in Middle Earth, why she had wings, her senseless imprisonment, and her one friend's death. After that however, she would move on. _Tomorrow will bring a new day, _she thought. _And I... I have a lot to learn if I wish to survive. _

That night, for the first time in three years, Evelyn fell asleep under a canopy of stars, breathing fresh air, and with a small smile on her face.

Nothing felt quite as sweet as freedom.


	8. Chapter 8

Glorfindel sighed contently, gazing out across his home, his Imaldris.

It had been nearly a century since he swore his oath to Lord Elrond and took over the position of Captain of the Guard of Imaldris. He was also quickly appointed to Lord Elrond's seneschal, a duty which he considered a great honor.

Although the breeze in Imaldris never bit quite like the winds of Gondolin did, the sunsets never quite looked the same, and the elves were of a far more laid back and easy disposition than he was used to, he found that he was happy in this little hidden valley. He had long ago become used to conversing in Sindarin and was quite content to go by the name Glorfindel as the Quenya version of his name held too many wounds.

But Imaldris was largely peaceful, the major wars all seemed to be over and casualties among his ranks were incredibly rare. Glorfindel even had the distinct pleasure of watching Lord Elrond's meddlesome sons, Elladan and Elrohir, as well as his lovely daughter Arwen, grow up. The pair had been quite the handful when elflings, but they had matured into fine and noble young elves despite the tragedy of their mother's sailing.

That, of course, was an event that Glorfindel will never fail to feel guilt over. _If only I had insisted on traveling with the Lady..._ his mind always pondered. He felt that in that manner he had failed in his oath to Lord Elrond and was honestly a bit surprised when the Valar did not call him back. At the time he had begged and pleaded with them to take him back, to send him to those endless halls of waiting and let him wallow in his guilt there. Instead, he had only received a dream with a rather stern lecture from Varda about how his destiny still lied within Middle Earth. He had woken from said dream frustrated and no closer to answers than before.

But, they say time heals all wounds. Of course Glorfindel found this to be, as men might say, "complete horse shit," but nevertheless the passage of time allowed for the house of Elrond to push aside the pain of Celebrian leaving. The Lady Arwen still dwelled with her grandparents in Lothlorian, but the twins remained an ever constant presence in Glorfindel's life. They had joined the ranks of the guard and were often sent out on scouting and orc killing missions. The pair had the ability for the sweetest disposition, but placed on the battle field they were wild and fierce.

Glorfindel smiled slightly at the thought of the twins. Just this past week, they had returned from a scouting mission which had ended in a battle with a small band of approximately twenty orcs. While the small counting patrol had but seven soldiers, the orcs were easily defeated and only one guard had been injured, though it was but a scratch. As Glorfindel pondered the attack though, he came to a disturbing realization; the attacks were becoming far more frequent, and much closer than before. It seemed that perhaps his services would truly be needed more.

Turning from his perch at the edge of his balcony, Glorfindel strode down the halls of Imaldris to seek out his Lord's study. His golden hair streamed behind him as he moved, nodding politely at passing servants. Upon reaching the carved mahogany doors of Elrond's study, he knocked curtly, more out of formality than true politeness as he had grown increasingly familiar with the Peredhel over the years, and entered the office.

Lord Elrond sat behind his large desk, meticulous braids holding his raven hair back as he shuffled through a variety of papers littering his desk. He did not bother to look up as only two elves in all of Imaldris would enter his study so abruptly after knocking, and only one of them carried a sword which always seemed to clank upon the doorway.

"You do know that it is customary to wait for a response to a knock before entering, Glorfindel," Elrond spoke without looking up from a scroll he scowled particularly crossly at.

"My deepest apologies my Lord," Glorfindel of course sounded anything but apologetic as he bowed deeply. "I shall endeavor to meant my behavior at your behest."

"Is there a reason why you interrupted my reading of this incredibly fascinating complaint over grain stores?" Elrond asked, finally looking up with an expression of something between curiosity and annoyance.

"It is about the recent attack," Glorfindel's smirk faded and his face grew serious at the same speed as Elrond's. "I believe that the attacks over the last few months are no coincidence. Darkness is growing, I cannot feel it yet but I fear that I will soon."

"I had hoped that this would not come to pass," Elrond's voice became weary, revealing a small glimpse into his psyche. "I fear that you are correct."

"I would like to double the amount of patrols, sending out no fewer than ten elves in each," he said.

"I trust your judgment," Elrond replied.

Glorfindel nodded in thanks before swiftly striding out of the office towards his own with the intent to adjust the roster. Along the way he ran into the particularly boisterous twins of Elrond and informed them of the new developments. While they did seem concerned over the fact that orc attacks were becoming more common, they did seem eager at the thought of being able to ride out with the patrols more often.

Glorfindel found himself smiling brighter as he walked away, amused by the amount of life he found dwelling in the young elves of Imaldris. There is something to be said about living too long, about how it makes one less vibrant, less welcoming of the life they are blessed with. Glorfindel was determined to live and love the second chance he was given. And, if the Valor permit it, he would do everything in his power to keep Middle Earth safe.


	9. Chapter 9

Evelyn passed through the forest without a sound. As time passed, Mirkwood had somehow became some sort of home to her. Yes, she did spend much of her time avoiding the elves, but she found that they tended to avoid the more spider infested regions of the forest. In truth, it did become rather irritating to be constantly fending off spiders, but at the same time, the spiders were easier to deal with than the elves.

She had taught herself much since her escape. She refined her fighting techniques with those long knives, she made her own arrows with flint napped tips and her own feathers for fletching, and she learned the ways of the forest: how to walk without being heard, how to hide from the keenest of elven eyes amongst the branches, and how to survive with nothing but her own whits. Evelyn did however find herself often skirting the edges of elven society, trekking near them on their patrols and even stealing from clothing lines when she was in need of new attire. She did not really consider it stealing as the beloved that the elves owed her as much for her wrongful imprisonment.

It was late in the evening during one of those expeditions nearing the elven settlement that Evelyn spotted it. The night was just beginning to fall as the sun had fled the sky. It was the night of the new moon and a storm was brewing in the distance, hiding the sky's light. There was but one star that shone that night, it was the brightest and boldest among the heavens and seemed to gladly take up the role of the moon. It was due to this darkness that Evelyn found it, for she _heard _it first.

A small cry.

Perhaps more of a whimper, but a cry nonetheless. Although Evelyn was wary, her curiosity won out and she found herself approaching a hallow at the base of a great tree. Squinting her eyes against the darkness, there in a tiny dug out space, was a little wolf pup barely past weaning. It laid out with its eyes closed in exhaustion as it desperately nuzzled the still form of a large female wolf. Four other still pups laid out beside it, their eyes closed as well. It would perhaps have been a peaceful scene if not for the gold fletched arrows protruding from the she wolf and pups.

It seemed that the elves' love for nature did not extend to wolves who they saw as a threat to their steeds.

Slowly and with great care, Evelyn picked up the tiny pup. A quick pinch of its skin and examination of its gums informed her that the creature was severely dehydrated. It was also the smallest of the litter, a feat which probably saved its life as it was likely that the little pup had remained hidden beneath its siblings when the elves slaughtered its family. The little thing whimpered in Evelyn's arms before sinking into the warmth of her body.

Hearing a rustle in the trees behind her, Evelyn tucked the pup beneath her arm, threw up her hood, and took off in the other direction without a thought. Once she had covered a significant distance however, she came to a stop in a small glade that was a favorite place for respite. There, she sat atop an old tree stump, weathered with age and the poundings of both rain and snow alike.

Above her starlight filtered through the tree tops and white light rained down. The air had a slight chill to it and a gentle breeze tugged at a few tendrils of hair that had escaped Evelyn's braid. Mirkwood always held a foreboding sense of darkness, a knowledge that spiders were near, but at times like these she was tempted to forget. The ground in this particular glade was carpeted with a blanket of thick moss that tickled Evelyn's feet as she slipped them out of her boots and she was almost tempted to take a nap if not for the knowledge that such would bring forth her dreams. They always seemed to return when she was most relaxed, most at ease. Perhaps Middle Earth was simply determined to keep her from happiness.

Her thoughts were interrupted however by the tiny cry calling out once more. She opened her cloak and drew forth the little pup, holding it up to the thin beam of light in order to obtain a better view of her new friend.

The pup was pure black, almost so much as her own wings but with the acceptation of a white diamond on the center of its forehead. She was tiny but had massive paws that indicated that one day she might grow in size to larger than her mother. Evelyn found herself opening her own waterskin and dribbling water into the wolf's mouth, watching it eagerly lap up the cool liquid. Once she finished her drink, she seemed much more aware, yipping happily and giving Evelyn a friendly lick in thanks. Evelyn sighed heavily. At that moment she knew that she was stuck with her, there was no way she was going to be able to leave the pup.

"I suppose you're stuck with me then," she asked the pup, humor slipping into her tone.

The little wolf seemed to nod her head, large, wet eyes impossibly wide and solemn. Perhaps she would help to chase the nightmares away.

* * *

The stillness of the forest was disquieting. It was silent. Not a leaf rustled, not a single bird sang. When the birds stop singing, they are sending out a warning, a cry of danger. The forest was holding its breath.

All at once the stillness was broken as a massive spider the size of a small horse fell from the treetops, landing agily on its eight legs, whirling around, six eyes searching. It was a monstrous thing, black with glowing eyes. Venom seemed to drip from its fangs as it spun, searching for its quarry.

Then, like an angered wraith seeking revenge, Evelyn flew from the treetops, her massive black wings stirring the leaves with powerful strokes. The branches of the trees seemed to draw back, to allow her through as she landing lighting on her toes. Although her initial landing spot was behind the creature, it did not take it long to turn, to glare at her with this menacing eyes. It was but ten feet away, well within the beasts own striking distance. Evelyn held her bow at a half draw, aimed directly at the spider as she waited for it to attack. The two shared a deadly face off, circling slightly as Evelyn led the way, her feet skimming across the forest floor. The spider clicked its fangs several more times, then, it reared up, fangs flashing as the only sign of warning before it sprang forth.

The spider flew through the air, flinging itself at Evelyn who remained absolutely still. When it was mere milliseconds away from reaching the her, just before it had a chance to sink its fangs into the flesh of Evelyn's throat, a shadow burst forth from the trees.

It was a blur of darkness, but Evelyn did not flinch as it took down the spider in mid air. It was a large, female wolf, almost equal in size to the spider it stood atop of. She was as dark as a starless night with only a small patch of white on her forehead marking her gleaming coat. Claws as sharp as an eagle's talons dug into the legs of the massive spider, crushing through its hard exoskeleton. She appeared absolutely feral, growling like a beast and snarling when the spider flung itself in an attempt to buck off the wolf. When the spider reaches to to sink its fangs into the wolf's shoulder, she kept back and slapped her body into the spiders's side, knocking it over. Glistening white teeth snapped down on the thin connection between the spider's thorax and abdomen, splitting it in half and ending the battle.

Then, the wolf stood up. Black eyes shining in triumph as she opened that mouth of fearsome teeth... only to stick her tongue out the side, loll her head over, and grin at Evelyn.

"Shade," she called out and the massive wold trotted over to her like some overgrown puppy. "We were supposed to try to keep it whole so that I could do a complete dissection." Although Evelyn's words were scolding, the wolf, named Nightshade though fondly nicknamed Shade, could sense the teasing tone. She cocked her head to the side as if to admonish her human for thinking that she would miss an opportunity to hunt properly.

Evelyn just chucked and loaded the spider carcass onto her homemade litter, hooking it up to a harness that she outfitted Nightshade with. The happy pair walked through the forest in silence, stopping only for a moment so that Evelyn could shoot a passing rabbit for their dinner. Her aim was deadly accurate, a single arrow piercing directly through the rabbit's eye. It was a clean and painless kill.

The girl and wolf continued with their walk, listening to the birds chirping happily as midday approached in Mirkwood. Evelyn was suddenly struck with a pang of longing for she knew that soon, this home would be no more for her.

When they reached a clump of rather thick trees, Evelyn stepped ahead of Nightshade to move several boughs woven together to form a sort of mat. They were nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the forest around them, but if one were to look closely they would be able to determine that said boughs were from fallen trees and concealed and entrance. Upon removing them, Nightshade hopped happily through the doorway whilst Evelyn lingered for a moment longer to hide their tracks and re-cover their secret entrance.

Inside the space created was a small hut of woven branches. In one corner was a pile of furs to sleep on and the other, a fire pit with many strips of dried meat hanging forth. Beside the dried meat were neat packs of dried fruits and various nuts that Evelyn had collected along with several empty water skins made from animal hides that she was careful to oil well. Several strips of tough robe made from braided vines of Mirkwood also hung in coils and sets of animals skins had been sewn together to create two packs. Evelyn was preparing for a journey, but she had one task left.

Nightshade shifted from one paw to the other, slightly impatient as Evelyn dropped her bow and the rabbit off near the fire pit before unharnessing the wolf who immediately plopped down on the pile of soft skins, seeming content to merely watch what was coming next.

Evelyn carefully unwrapped the bundle on the stretcher, laying it out on a pile of leaves that she could later rake away out of her shelter. The dead spider was massive and took up a large portion of the floor in Evelyn's little home. A look of mild curiosity set across her face as she drew forth a well sharpened knife, a worn journal, and a charcoal stick. She flipped to a free page and began making meticulous notes, marking down careful observations. After several hours, she moved on to directing the creature, once more taking meticulous notes and marking down every careful observation. She sliced open organs, measured the thickness of exoskeleton walls at different points, and bent and twisted each joint, testing their strength.

Finally, Evelyn turned her attention towards the pincers. With upmost care she unwrapped a precious piece of stolen cargo, a small dagger in a crystal sheath. The blade was sturdy, but was likely created more for ornamental purposes. Nevertheless, she used the razor sharp edge of the blade to slice into the thin glands above the pincers. A deep red liquid dripped from these and fell into a small tin which she simmered slowly over a gentle flame. One leaf at a time, Evelyn added several plants she had painstakingly collected after thorough investigations into their properties. The liquid lightly bubbled and Evelyn took care that a small vent was opened in the shelter and that neither she nor Nightshade inhaled the fumes. Hours later, when the sun was beginning to touch the horizon, it was done. She carefully poured the concentrated liquid into the crystal sheath and smiled lightly. Evelyn replaced the dagger and held the entire piece up to the light of the fire, watching as orange flames reflected the dark amber liquid in the crystal.

A poison dagger.

If her approximations were correct, the concentrated liquid was strong enough to kill an elf with one prick. The antidote that she had formed was held in a small vial hidden beneath her clothes. She had yet to encounter the need to kill an elf, but the likely hood of such event was increasing with each passing day. Thranduil never did give up on finding his escaped prisoner and Evelyn still saw the occasional guard patrol scanning the woods for her. It was for this reason that she knew that she would have to move on.

That evening, she tied the dagger around her waist and packed all tools, food, and waterskins that she would need for her journey and a new life. Mirkwood was growing darker with each passing day and Evelyn saw the elven patrols getting closer and closer to her hiding place. The time to leave was approaching and Nightshade, for her part, took the larger pack without complaint and stood still as Evelyn tied it on.

Lastly, Evelyn picked up her journal filled with all her notes that she had collected. It was all the information about toxic, medicinal, and edible plants that she deciphered along with, more importantly, the information on the spiders. She used all her knowledge and experience in dissections and animal studies to observe and mark down all aspects of the giant spiders. Before that night she had dissected over a dozen other siders in order to compare and fully understand the creatures. She knew their strengths, their weaknesses, and how they could most easily be killed. She refined her fighting techniques around this and knew how to wield her twin knives into a deadly and efficient trap for the monsters.

As the moon rose into the sky, Evelyn secured her pack onto her back, put out the fire, and stepped out into the night with Nightshade at her side. The wolf and girl took one last, long look back before trekking out towards the edge of the forest. For many hours they walked in complete silence, communicating only with looks and gestures. They remained in such silence for several nights, sleeping through the sunlit hours and traveling in the cloak of night.

At long last, they reached the edge of the forest and Evelyn got her first look at the vast plains of Middle Earth. It was like a breath of fresh air, the endless sea of glittering, pale green; the light blue sky tinged with the early morning's blush shone out. Once far from the shadows of Mirkwood, Evelyn's heart grew lighter. Several times she hitched her pack to the ever faithful Nightshade so that she could truly test her wings, rising up above the earth and soaring to the sky.

Evelyn couldn't recall a time that she had felt so happy.

Throughout the course of their journey, Evelyn found the strength in her wings growing, found her speed increasing and acrobatics growing more extreme. She also encountered orcs for the first time who were as foul, strong, and stupid as she imagined. The orcs however, were no match for Evelyn and her faithful companion. In fact, Evelyn found herself adding several passages to her journal on orc physiology and soon perfected a method of dispatching them.

After several weeks of traveling, avoiding elves and men alike, and hunting orcs, the happy pair came upon the sight of their new home. It was a small waterfall cascading into a stream with plentiful brook trout dancing playfully through the water. Behind the waterfall was a thin, winding entrance that led to a spacious cave that was far enough away from the water to remain dry. Thin cracks in the ceiling of the cave allowed for natural sunlight to filter through and another passageway led to a small opening hidden at the base of a great tree. On one side of the waterfall was an open plain filled with wild game, the other a small forest ripe with berries, herbs, and fruit trees practically dripping at the bough.

It was paradise.

Evelyn and Nightshade quickly unpacked, the latter immediately dunking in the water for a swim. Evelyn found herself smiling and singing quietly as she unpacked her bags. She had found a perfect home, a place with everything she could possibly want and hidden away from the eyes of men and elves. Perhaps she would have the occasional orc, but she had Nightshade to rely on and all the time in the world to perfect her skills. If she was anytime near the War of the Ring, she would simply wait it out. Let Middle Earth deal with its own problems. She would be happy.

* * *

Somewhere, far away, Varda the Queen of the Stars and Valar was scheming. Her husband, the King of the Valar was not thrilled with her meddling, but he would not stop her actions and she knew that she was right. She knew what was necessary. So there, in a beautiful courtyard in Aman she sat with three of her close friends: Yavanna, Nienna, and Lorien as they drank tea and planned the course of a child who would shape Middle Earth.

"Was the cave quite necessary?" Varda asked, fondness tinging the seriousness of her tone.

"You have allowed cruelty to be her teacher for too long. I fear that compassion may have fled her heart," Nienna spoke without any hint of remorse.

"Our interference should be minimum," Varda replied. "And do not think that I am unaware of your actions, Lorien."

"Their fates are intertwined. I will do what I must," the Lord spoke with a wistful tilt to his voice. "And what of the one who caused this all to come about in the beginning?"

Yavanna looked sheepish for a moment before steeling her gaze. She took a long sip of her tea to collect her thoughts and carefully addressed her closest companions, ignoring the previous barb.

"I mourn for the suffering that the child has undergone, but it is time that her fate begins," the others nodded in agreement with the Giver of Fruits. "Their paths will surly cross and we can only hope that the cruel mistress of hardship has not taught her too much of a stone heart."

"If she is not ready then all of Middle Earth may fall," Varda's gaze was hard.

"I am not sure if she is ready," said Nienna.

"She is," Yavanna replied firmly. "I have faith."

"I suppose that is all we have in the end," came Lorien's reply.

The four Valar gathered that day shared several long glances, nodding their heads in agreement. The fate of Middle Earth would be laid on the shoulders of a young girl and elven lord who knew not what burden they carried. It was time for the Valar to pray.

"So it shall be done," Varda, Queen of the Stars and most beloved by the firstborn spoke with the wisdom of ages carried in her tone.

Fate was set in motion.


	10. Chapter 10

Glorfindel sat high atop his proud stallion, mane of blond hair dancing in the wind as the small party of ten elves rode out across the land. It was only meant to be a small scouting mission, but Glorfindel had insisted on heading it himself as they were to examine a rather distant valley which had some reported orc sightings. The Lord was loath to allow his elves to travel such a distance without his protection and thus he found himself at the head of the party.

Flanking either side of the ancient warrior rode the sons of Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir. They had insisted on joining the scouting party as well as Glorfindel had refused to stay in Imaldris. While they usually looked to the elder elf for guidance and knew him as a more than capable warrior, they were worried for him. Glorfindel had never slept well through the night without the aide of Lord Elrond's sleeping draughts since his return from Mandos' halls. The past several weeks however had been particularly trying and both twins knew that something must have getting worse. Still, the re-born elf refused to speak on the matter, only spending more and more hours of night wandering the halls, gazing at the tapestry of his battle in the Fall of Godolin.

The twins loved their father's seneschal dearly and thus insisted on their attendance in the small party as a way of being able to ensure that they could keep an eye on the elf. Although few could come close to matching the skills of the Lord of old, the twins themselves were well past their majority and more than capable fighters. They also thirsted for orc blood and sought to wreck whatever vengeance they could for their mother's sake. Some wounds burn too deep to forget.

The further they rode from Imaldris, the more vast the plains became. Soon, the small party found themselves in a veritable sea of grass, long strands brushing the knees of the elven riders and constantly swaying in the breeze. Warm sunlight basked the elves and the clear blue sky seemed welcoming. It was almost perfect.

All too soon however, the beauty of the scene was broken. A cry from Avorn, one of the guards of keenest eyesight in the party, alerted the other elves.

"Orcs and wargs on the horizon," he called in alarm. "By Eru there must be nearly a hundred."

Glorfindel swore in Quenya under his breath before quickly ordering his soldiers. There would be far too many orcs for such a small band to hope to defeat. They were all lightly armed as they were only supposed to be a small scouting party. Even several days from Imaldris, no one predicted that such a large force of Sauron's ilk would wander so close to the hidden valley.

Nonetheless, Glorfindel knew that should they stay to fight, the orcs would surly kill his soldiers. He had no desire to waste precious lives and knew that a warning must reach Imaldris at once. Danger was closer than anyone had previously thought. Before he could order a retreat however, the orcs appeared quite clearly before them.

"Archers ready," Glorfindel called out, holding a hand up as a signal to nock their bows. "Fire!" At his command, the soldiers released volley after volley of arrows, wiping out the first several lines of attackers. The orcs kept coming however and soon they were forced to put down their bows and take up swords.

Glorfindel, for his part, felt far more comfortable with a blade than a bow. His gleaming sword was forged ages ago in hi beloved city of Gondolin and had been held by Lord Elrond as a piece of history. Now, it fit in his hand like it was made specifically for him and it served as a deadly extension of his arm. He swung his sword with great strength as he cleaved betwixt the shoulder and head, slicing down orc after orc.

Soon though, it became apparent that the elves were losing the advantage of their skill. Several had taken wounds that while not life threatening, slowed them down and placed the tiny patrol at an even greater disadvantage.

"Elladan, Elrohir," Glorfindel called out, his voice drawing the attention of the two young lords who were locked in a battle with four orcs each. "You will lead the others back to Imaldris. Take a wide loop around the crags, ride as silently and swiftly as you can. You must alert your father. This group is surly but a small branch of a much larger hoard."

"We will not leave you, Glorfindel!" Elladan, like usual, was the first to shout protest. His brother however seemed to understand Glorfindel's plight by the grim set of his gaze.

"Elladan, you must," the Seneschal replied. "I will draw their attention as far from Imaldris as possible and then seek to loose them. Should we all stay here we will perish and no warning will reach Imaldris. Both of you must return for you must lead the party and your brother must tend to the wounded. Go now before it becomes too late." Glorfindel was screaming about the sounds of the battle, part of him thanking Eru that the orcs never learned the Grey tongue.

Elladan looked torn. Black blood stained both him and his brother, but he could see splashed of red, Eldar blood on some of his brethren. It was true that Elrohir was the most experienced healer among them and the next highest ranking elf aside from them was severely wounded, but he was loath to abandon his mentor to the orcs.

"Elladan," Glrofindel warned, voice low so that only the two of them would hear. "Please do not force me to make it an order."

Elladan turned swiftly to slice off the hand of an orc who was attempting to surprise him from behind before turning back once more to Glorfindel, the reborn hero of old and his dear friend. The sadness in Glorfindel's usually cheerful eyes was what it took to break his stubborn resolve. He nodded quickly before turning to sweep his gaze across the elven warriors.

"Retreat," he called out. "We ride past the crags back to Imaldris. We must warn Lord Elrond."

With that the elves began subtly backing up, bringing themselves closer to the horses who remained. Elvish steeds were far too loyal to abandon their masters in battle and thus the ones who had been separated from their riders remained but a few paces back, prancing anxiously as they waited for their ever faithful masters to mount them once more.

Asfaloth, Glorfindel's trusted steed, heeded the command soon uttered by his master and stampeded though the throng of orcs. Glorfindel then, with all the agility and grace of an elf, gripped his mane and launched himself atop the stallion. Together they raced in the opposite direction of the elves, drawing the attention of nearly all the orcs who quickly gave chase.

The remaining few orcs were quickly slaughtered by the elves who hopped aboard their own steeds and rode back to Imaldris with as much haste as they could manage. The entire company knew what their leader had done. They could only hope that the valiant Balrog Slayer could pull off another miracle, that his steed would ride with the speed of the wind and that he would succeed in losing the horde of orcs.

They all prayed to the Valar as they rode.

* * *

Evelyn perched lazily in the crest of a massive apple tree's branch whilst Nightshade laid curled up at its base. The sun was shining brightly and birds flocked around the girl and her companion, neither raising a hand to the little creatures who drew bravely close. There was never a need to hunt songbirds and thus the creatures knew to trust the pair. Their sweet songs blended together creating a music which Evelyn thought must be far fairer than anything Middle Earth's gods could ever create.

While the human and wolf pair were appreciative of their secret cave as it gave them shelter in the night and was a perfect place to hide from elves, men, and orcs... Evelyn couldn't stand being in there long. The enclosed feeling of being underground, the darkness, the walls on all sides all reminded her far too much of her time spent languishing in bitter solitude, a prisoner in a cell. Besides her regular dreams of fire and a golden haired elf, whose identity Evelyn had long ago guessed but never dared to confirm, Evelyn now suffered from regularly reoccurring nightmares of cramped spaces, damp walls, and locked doors. She often woke in a cold sweat, crying out silently lest she rouse imaginary guards, and panting with exhaustion as she swore that her escape had been a dream, that she was still locked away in an empty cell of solitude.

It was during those nights that she found herself pushed back to awareness by a wet nose and hot breath. Her beloved Shade was always quick to wake her, pressing herself onto Evelyn's chest, wet nose nuzzling her neck and breathing heavily until Evelyn was able to control her own breathing. Nightshade's heartbeat was slow and steady and as Evelyn reaches up to wrap her arms around the wolf's neck, her rapid heartbeat always syncs with that of the wolf. The two were an inseparable pair.

The peace of the day was soon broken as Nightshade suddenly went from lazily lounging at the roots of the tree to standing, ears perked and eyes scanning the horizon. Evelyn sat up as well, knowing that Nightshade would not be so alert for nothing.

"What is it," she whispered, voice low.

In response, Nightshade growled lightly and lifted her nose high, smelling the wind. In that moment, Evelyn knew what her wolf had found. Orcs were coming.

Evelyn quickly reached behind herself and pulled forth her cloak, fastening the clip around her neck and tossing the hood up. A quick nod to Nightshade was all the instruction that the wolf needed to begin walking at a brisk yet silent pace towards their hidden home. Upon reaching the tree-root entrance, Nightshade sat down to block the door whilst Evelyn took to the sky, stretching her massive black wings outwards and flying far too high for any being aside from the mighty eagles themselves to see her. Somehow her vision remind clear, and Evelyn did her very best to not ponder too long as to why.

Several leagues out, from high above she quickly saw what had alarmed Nightshade so. A hoard of orcs atop massive wargs was chasing a lone rider atop a shining white horse. The orcs had to number at least thirty and they were quickly gaining on the fleet rider. The orcs were the standard brutish type armed with crude weapons that were overly rusted and likely proved more of a risk in infection than actual cutting. Being adverse to daylight, Evelyn couldn't help but wonder what stupid blunder of the rider caused the orcs to be so enraged as to travel under the midday sun. In truth, they shouldn't be too hard to kill, weakened as they were by the light. Alas, they were chasing a lone rider and had the advantage of their savage mounts, they would likely overwhelm him by sheer numbers alone.

As Evelyn pondered this she swept just slightly closer to the ground, still out of sight range for elves and orcs alike, but close enough for her to get a better look. What she saw nearly caused her to fall from the sky in shock. There, atop that shining white steed was a mass of golden hair trailing behind the rider like a comet's trail. It was an elf, and not just any elf, it was the elf that haunted her nightmares. It was the elf who she had saved in that far too realistic dream all those years ago, it was the elf that came to her once every few nights to torment her with his death. It was the only elf in all of Middle Earth that Evelyn could honestly say she had some pity left for.

Evelyn was torn. She swore vengeance against the elves for she knew through bitter experience just how treacherous they were. She had never before lifted a hand to help any strangers who happened to wander past her home for never had a stranger lifted theirs to help her. Yet could she call this elf a stranger? Could she group he who haunted her dreams each night with the likeliness of every single other elf she had met?

Part of her, a hidden, lonely part that had been buried with the innocence of a naive young girl several years ago stirred with pity. He looked every bit the avenging angel he appeared to be every night in her dreams: golden hair formed a crown, a halo around his head, bright blue eyes glistened with perseverance, and a soft mouth curved with he slightest hint of a stern frown. He was beautiful and that small part of Evelyn that had watched him die too many times felt a hint of possessiveness over him.

_He is mine,_ that voice whispered in her head. She had cradled him, comforted him as he died over and over and over again. When one gives so much of their heart to another, does that other being not become part of them?

The hoard was moving on a direct course to Evelyn's home and she had to make a decision. With the deep and lingering feeling that knew that her choice would change the course of her fate, Evelyn angled her wings to a sharp turn and made a beeline for her home. She flew with such haste that her landing was far from graceful as she turned to Nightshade.

"We fight."

Those words were all that was needed as the wolf moved swiftly into the cave, followed closely behind by Evelyn. Once there, Evelyn strapped her twin long knives to her hips, pulled her bow and arrows onto her shoulders, and fasted the leather wrist cuffs that served as her armor. Then, she turned to her canine friend and strapped on hardened leather bracers that she had made to protect the forelimbs of the massive wolf. She then fitted on the leather helmet topped with sharpened obsidian spikes which she had crafted to prevent orcs from being able to crush the wolf's skull.

Fully outfitted, a short nod and the pair were off. They took off swiftly in the direction of the orcs. When they were nearing, a short bark from Nightshade indicated that they were close and the pair split up. Evelyn took to the air, pulling up a cloth to cover the bottom half of her face and nocking an arrow to her bow whilst Nightshade veered off to the left and disappeared in the tall grass.

Soon, the thundering sound of the orcs rang out across the once peaceful glade. On the horizon, they appeared. White rider at the head of a pac of orcs ever gaining in a display that this time reminded Evelyn all too much of the white rider horseman of death leading the apocalypse. But these were orcs and wargs, she knew how to kill these.

Evelyn drew back her bowstring and eyed down the arrow. She angled her wings downward and began her swooping decent. With a soft exhale her fingers slipped from the bowstring and the arrow flew true, sinking into the chest of the warg that was mere inches from pulling the elf off his steed.

The elf, hearing the hiss of an arrow past his ear looked up in alarm and was greeted by the sight of a masked figure bearing massive black wings. He made eye contact with the figure for but a moment before the strange being nocked another arrow and fired once more. It then flapped those wings, as large as an eagle's but as black as a crebain, and rose up into the air, sweeping in an arc before swooping down once more to release several more arrows.

Glorfindel had no time to contemplate longer on the identity of this being as another orc drew closer. He pushed his head down and urged Asfaloth to run faster. It would only be a manner of time before the pack gained on him too much that his rescuer's arrows would be no longer effective. He wanted to allow this being as much time as possible to pick of as many as it could from the air.

Glorfindel but hoped that Eru was feeling generous this day. Mayhaps he stood a chance.


	11. Chapter 11

Evelyn did another sweep, shooting downwards with the force of gravity whilst letting fly arrow after arrow. She was running out and the orcs and wargs were gaining. The horse carrying its golden rider was sweating, its strides were becoming more erratic and Evelyn knew that it would soon fall. She hesitated for but moment more before steeling her nerves. She would face the orcs.

Making one final swoop around the perimeter, she landed gracefully ahead of the hoard. She pulled her bow back over her shoulder and drew forth her long knives. The easy weight of the elvish blades felt right in her hands. They grounded her as they became an extension of her arms. She inhaled deeply once, peering out from beneath her hood before launching herself into combat.

With a fierce battle cry she lept forward, massive wings flapping behind her with the force of a gale wind, buffeting at the orcs and causing some of the wargs to shriek. She then began her deadly dance, blades whirling around her as she moved lightly on her feet, slashing and slicing at the orcs. Her blades formed a deadly arc of precision around her as no movement was made without purpose. Each slice of her deadly blade slashed a throat or pierced a fatal weak spot on the orcs' leathery skin. She moved like a wraith, like a haunting figure from the shadows, black orc blood splattering the air, the same color as her fearsome wings now dripping with the inky black substance.

* * *

Glorfindel too fought valiantly, though he was weakened by the battle before and the long chase. His mount had taken flight at his order as the elf had no wish to watch his steed slaughtered needlessly. Although his focous was largely on the fight, the elf couldn't help but notice the figure fighting beside him. He could not be certain if it was male or female, but the short and slim build hinted that it was perhaps the latter. The being had wings though, wings the same color as his guardian from Gondolin all those years ago, the being who haunted his dreams. It was so akin to that mortal that he was certain that they must be of the same kind, some rare species of Middle Earth that he had yet to hear of. Perhaps this rescuer was kin, was a descendent of that being.

While Glorfindel's mind wandered slightly into pondering the identity of his rescuer, he fought three orcs simultaneously. It should have been an easy feat for him, but then, a warg from behind lept forward, taking him by surprise and knocking him to the ground. His sword was flung from his grasp and he was trapped beneath the hulking mass of the warg. Just when he thought that it would tear out his throat, a cry from the figure sounded.

"Now," she screamed, never breaking stride or even turning to look at Glorfindel's trapped form.

Then, out of nowhere, a black blur knocked the warg aside. Glorfindel scrambled for his sword and quickly dispatched the three orcs who had been hoping to watch the sport of their mount slaughtering the elf. Glorfindel turned back and watched as now, the warg was faced by a beast nearly equal to it in size. It was a massive wolf of pure black. It was wearing some sort of strange leather armor and now was faced off with the warg. Soon, the rest of the remaining wargs drew up to back up the one that attacked Glorfindel who now realized that said warg must have been the leader's mount for it was massive.

The lone black wolf had its hackles up, its teeth bared as it released a low growl. The wargs, about five remaining, growled as well. They began to circle each other and Glorfindel was forced backwards as another orc attacked him. The other being seemed unconcerned abut this development and Glorfindel took that, and the incoming orcs as a cue to leave them be. It was a fight between beasts and neither he nor the newcomer were to interfere.

Unexpectedly, it was the black wolf who charged first. She lept as if to go for the leader warg's throat, only to switch mid air and attack the second larges, off the leader's right. She tore into that creature's throat without issue and when she lifted her head, a piece of its bloody esophagus hung from her teeth. She shook her head, launching the offending flesh away before ducking low to dodge the claws of another warg. She continued this battle, leaping dodging, and ducking, taking out one warg after the other.

Finally, it was only her and the lead warg. The warg, seeing the orcs dwindling in number attempted to jump into the fray. It was halfway through a leap at the back of the stranger before, the black wolf cut it off. Leaping between the stranger and the warg, teeth bared and a low growl emitting from from deep in its chest. The stranger spared the wolf a moment and a small nod of thanks before continuing to battle the orcs.

This left the wolf and the warg. The two circled each other, sizing the other up and watching for any sign of weakness. This time the warg lept first, yellow teeth shining dully in the sun, claws extended as the scent of rotted meat exuded from his slobbering lips. The black wolf lept half a second later, black coat gleaming in the sun, blood specs marring its features, but white teeth still glistening despite their coat of bitter blood. The two beasts clashed in midair and what followed was the sound of fierce yowling and growls. They were true beasts nearly equally matched with he warg having brute strength and size, the wolf bearing greater speed and intelligence.

The battle raged: mortal and elf against orc, wolf against warg. Just as Glorfindel thought that the tide was turning, just as he thought that they had slayed enough orcs to lessen their disadvantage, he heard a soft grunt from behind him. He turned and saw that that the mysterious stranger had received a wound to its shoulder from an orc blade. It did not seem too bad as the stranger continued to fight without looking up, but Glorfindel's concern for the being who he was certain was a mortal was all that was needed of a distraction for one of the orcs he was fighting to slash his crude blade across the elf's stomach. He grunted and his blade slipped from his grasp and he fell forward, eyes slowly falling shut. His last image was that of the figure sprinting towards him, cloak billowing in the wind and black wings outstretched like the little mortal had been down in that pit in Gondolin.

* * *

Out of the corner of her eye, Evelyn noticed Glorfindel's fall. She saw the crimson blood spilling from his stomach. The sight brought forth memories of that night, of those haunting dreams where the blond elf held an arm around his stomach as blood poured forth, where she cradled a dying soul. A fierce cry tore from her lips, this one of something akin to desperation, as the quickly slaughtered the remaining orcs she was fighting. As she ran towards the elf to defend his still form, she was beaten there by Nightshade who had won in her battle with the warg. The two soon dispatched the remaining orcs and Evelyn dropped to her knees beside the now incredibly pale elf.

Nightshade stood guard as she examined him. Feeling his neck, she found a pules. A slow, but surprisingly steady pulse was weakly beating out a rhythm. Evelyn then turned to the wound. Although it was ugly and large, it appeared to have miraculously avoided most of his organs though she could see a slight tear into what she assumed was the small intestines.

Now she had a choice, with intensive and immediate care he had the slightest chance of survival. Without it, he would certainly perish. She stroked a hand errantly across the elf's face. It was just as perfect and beautiful as she remembered, his fighting just as noble and powerful. Now that beautiful perfection however, seemed tainted. She knew what elves did to those who were different. Evelyn looked up at her trusty companion.

"What do you say, Nightshade," she asked.

The wolf stared back at her, unblinking and steadfast as always. Evelyn nodded in understanding, she would do what had to be done. She attempted to lift the elf up, but he weighed more than he appeared. That coupled with the injury to Evelyn's arm caused her to buckle. Nightshade however, was quickly at their side, offering her back up so that Evelyn could slide the elf onto her so that she would bare his weight. They made a slow procession towards their home, careful to cover their tracks as the battle had ended incredibly close to the hidden cave.

When they arrived safe inside, Evelyn was quick to slide the elf off Glorfindel's back and began immediately tending to his wounds. Although both Evelyn and Nightshade had sustained some injuries, they were minor compared to the elf whose insides were ready to spill outwards. She quickly stripped the elf of his upper tunic and tossed it aside to be burned. The garment was already torn to shreds and soak in orc and elf blood alike.

After carefully bathing the massive wound with an antiseptic rinse, Evelyn drew forth from a small box a thin yet strong needle and several lengths of her own long hair, already braided and sterilized. Her hair had always been long having been well past her waist before entering Middle Earth. She had however, not cut her hair in her entire stay in Middle Earth and thus it now sat almost brushing her knees. The length of it made perfect suture material.

With steady hands, Evelyn stitched together the walls of the elf's delicate organs, worried greatly about infection. If he were a human, such a surgery done with rudimentary disinfectants in a cave would have surly caused septic shock. However, she could only hope that his elven healing abilities would prevent such things.

Once his internal organs were situated, Evelyn began to stitch together his skin. The wound was long and took over twenty stitches total to close. Evelyn was incredibly thankful for her hours spent as an intern at the veterinary hospital in what felt like a lifetime ago. She needed every ounce of experience to pull off that risky procedure.

At the end of the stitching, Evelyn bathed his wound once more before badging it with thick lichen that she knew to have some sort of antimicrobial properties. When finished with the elf, she moved on quickly to tending Nightshade's wounds which were but cuts and scrapes. She was however exceedingly careful to wash out any tooth or claw marks as she knew well that warg teeth were about as clean as orc blades. Only when she finished her treatment of both patients did she turn to healing her arm, and that was mostly at Nightshades urging. The wolf spent its entire time being treated nudging at Evelyn's arm, asking her to help herself first.

When she had finished treating her arm, which was but a minor flesh wound, Evelyn turned her attention back towards the elf, still sleeping due to loss of blood. Seeing his serene face once more brought back painful memories. Memories of a time when elves were fantasy beings, perfect an ethereal. The books that she read of Middle Earth, the ones that told the story of elves and men always seemed to paint the elves as protectors, guardians of the land. They made the elves out to be heroes of old, bearing the type of nobility, hospitatlity, and chivalry that was so often associated with fantasies of antiquity. But, it seemed that just as real medieval knights were nothing like the legendary Knights of the Round Table, so real elves were nothing like those of fantasy.

Part of Evelyn wanted to chuck him out, to leave him for his people or the orcs to find him. That part of her claimed that whichever found him first, she wouldn't care. However, another part of her reminded her of the way he looked when he was dying, all those times each night when she closed her eyes. It reminded her of the pain in his eyes, of the desperation in which he hoped for those refugees to escape with safety. She was reminded of how he sacrificed his life for others.

Evelyn sighed heavily, realizing that she already made her decision earlier that day when she chose to go out and fight, to risk her and Nightshade's lives to save his. She couldn't abandon him now, yet she also couldn't trust him. With that thought, she drew forth from its hook on the wall a length of elvish rope, another stolen treasure. She expertly bound the elf's delicate wrists and ankles before winding another length of the rope around his throat, tethering him to a hook in the wall. She then bound a length of rope between his ankles and another hook in the ground, careful to make set up allow him movement, but not enough to reach either tethering with his bound hands. This way, when he regained enough strength to move he could not untie himself.

She took one last look at the elf before covering him with a blanket and moving towards the fire to cook tonights dinner. She was fairly certain that she knew the identity of the elf. He was a golden haired warrior, fighting a beast of fire at the evacuation of a city. He died, and yet here he was alive. There was only one elf in Tolkien's works to perform such a feat, to be reborn before the events of the Ring came to pass.

She would wake til he awoke. Evelyn had no intention of ever coming near elven society again, what would it matter which elf he was. Nonetheless, it was likely that he wouldn't remember her. If she remembered correctly, the event described by Tolkien had the legendary elf slaying the beast alone, not with the help of a strange, winged girl.

Perhaps though, perhaps he could inform her of the date. Eavesdropping on travelers only told her so much and though she had a vague idea of being sometime soon before the events of the Lord of the Rings books, she couldn't be certain.

Nonetheless, Evelyn was careful to rescuer her cloak and mask before continuing to stir the stew. Nightshade sat beside her, the two back to back as Evelyn faced the fire and Nightshade watched the elf. The wolf would protect her friend so any threat. Be it foul or fair of face.


	12. Chapter 12

Glorfindel ached.

His entire body felt as if he had been trampled by a hoard or wargs and his stomach felt as if a fire were lit across. Waking was not a pleasant experience and he wished for nothing more than to fall back into blissful unconsciousness. But no, it seemed that the Valar were not so kind and the excruciating pain across his stomach refused to allow him sleep.

As Glorfindel was drawn into full wakefulness, his memories of events leading to his waking came back to him like a sudden wave: the pack of warg riding orcs, the scouts returning to Imaldris, the beasts gaining on him, and his mysterious savior. He also recalled the wound, a deep gash across his middle so alike to the one he gained from the Balrog all those thousands of years ago. In truth, waking was a bit of a surprise to him as when he received the wound, he was certain that it was his second end. The twins had returned to their father and so Glorfindel had been so sure that protecting Lord Elrond's line was his final act. Instead, here he was awake one more.

With this realization, Glorfindel attempted to bring his hand towards his face to sweep the errant strands of hair that he felt tickling his forehead. Instead, he felt a resistance on his hands, he could not draw them apart. With a sudden note of panic he attempted to yank at them and only succeeded in jarring the injury to his middle. The movement sent a white hot stab of pain through his being and he gasped sharply. Stilling himself once more he took stock of his situation; he could feel bandages across his middle and his arm, the ground below his was softened by a thick fur that he could only assume to be some sort of pelt, and he could hear the light crackling of a fire along with twi distinct breathing patterns. The air was clean and his wounds felt exceedingly well cared for so certainly he wasn't a prisoner of the orcs; yet, his hands were bound so he had not been found by the patrol and sent back to Imaldris. This of course left only one possible answer, his mystery hero.

Using all the strength that he still possessed, Glorfindel slowly opened his eyes and was greeted by the sight of a rather homely abode lit with warm amber by a cheerful fire. His hands were bound together in front of him and a tether rose from he bindings to a spot above his head whilst his ankles were in a similar situation. His tunic had been stripped from him and across his stomach was a large swath of bandages.

He turned his gaze upwards and saw directly across from him a figure cloaked and hooded. A mask was tied across the figure's face with only a pair of brown eyes shining brightly at him. The shine in those eyes reminded Glorfindel so much of the light of the Two Trees, and yet they glittered so keenly with suspicion.

"Hello," his voice crackled with dryness as he forced the Common words from his mouth.

The figure approached him slowly whilst drawing forth a crude wooden cup. They brought the vessel to Glorfindel's parched lips and slid one hand behind his head to support him as he drank the soothingly cool water. As soon as he was finished, the figure laid his head back down and slid back to their earlier place beside a massive wolf. Both beings watched Glorfindel with suspicion.

"Thank you," he whispered. There was a beat of silence as the stranger continued to stare at him with suspicion. Glorfindel's mind was torn. He was devastatingly curious about this stranger, this winged figure who swooped in at the exact moment of his need, so similarly to the one who did so at the fall of Gondolin. Yet, at the same time apprehension was settled so thickly across the room that one could cut it with a sword. This figure did not trust him, as obviously seen by his bonds, and he knew not even this stranger's name. This of course was something that Glorfindel was determined to rectify. "My name is Glorfindel," he spoke slowly, recalling how they had called out a word in Common during the battle so surly they must speak at least some. He also couldn't help but notice how the stranger flinched at his name. "I am an elf of Imaldris and I promise you that I mean you no harm. Please, may I inquire your name?"

"You may inquire, though you may find yourself unsatisfied in my response," the stranger, a female certainly by the gentle note of her voice responded with a tone not only of formality, but with a certain force to it, as if the words did not come naturally.

"If you will not grant me your name, then what shall I call my savior and jailor," he spoke with as much light and teasing as he could manage with the raging pain of his stomach. His words however, did not lighten the mood as he had hoped for. Instead, his savior's eyes blazed even brighter with fury as she slid close to him, bringing a dagger from nowhere against his vulnerable throat.

"If I wished it so I could slit your throat where you lie, I could have left you to die with your wounds, or I could have simply allowed the orcs to take you. I am no jailer and if you desire to leave I shall slice your bonds and carry you from my home, see how long you last on the plains," as she spat her words into Glorfindel's sensitive ears, the wolf behind her stood and growled, hackles raised and teeth gleaming. "If you do desire to continue your life then I suggest that you do not attempt to remove these bindings, stay still, and recover so that you can journey back to your home alone. I will be glad for you to leave whenever you desire it so," her last words were practically a hiss as she raised her head to glare into his eyes once more.

She stayed that way for several moments before re-sheathing her dagger and sitting back on the balls of her feet. Her gaze challenged him to respond, and never one to back down to a challenge, Glorfindel did.

"My sincerest apologies, I had no intention to offend," Glofindel put on one of his most charming smiles, the kind that he used once long ago to settle disputes in his household and charm Gondolin's high courts. "I am vastly grateful for you help and I do believe that I will require the indulgence of your hospitality for but a bit longer," he winced slightly, speaking was excruciatingly painful. "Although I see that you greatly value your privacy, I would humbly request some form of a name, an alias if you must, to call you by. I cannot continue to refer to you as 'my heroic stranger' or 'my winged guardian' in my mind." He finished his words with yet another brilliant smile and even a small wink.

"I am not yours," she hissed in anger, the wolf behind her took a step forward, seemingly ready to pounce. She held up a steadying hand to the massive creature who shoved its nose into the crux of the strangers elbow, rubbings its head across her arm. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them she seemed calm once more. "You may call me Raven if you must."

With that, she slipped back towards the fire place and began preparing some sort of brew which Glorfindel fervently hoped would be some sort of pain reliever. Raven's wolf spent the entire time its master's back was turned staring down Glorfindel as if it were challenging him to move to attack its master.

"Drink," Raven commanded, holding the same crude wooden cup to Glorfindel's lips. The vessel was now filled with a brown and bitter smelling liquid, but Glorfindel sipped it nonetheless. The brew was unfamiliar to the elf, however he was able to make out the notes of several herbs which he knew to be powerful pain relievers and fever reducers. He also noted the rather strong presence of an herb which was an extremely strong sleep inducer, strong enough that Lord Elrond often used it on his sons to force them to rest.

Glorfindel should have been concerned about being drugged by a mysterious stranger when he was far from any familiar elf as any sane elf would be. However, Glorfindel had never really been counted among the sane in both Gondor and Imaldris. He was curious about this Raven who reminded him greatly of the once responsible for the escape of Gondolin's survivors. This mysterious stranger who fought like a wraith, strong enough to fell over a dozen orcs; the one who bore the wings of a bird, who saved his life when he knew that his wounds should have sent him straight back to Mandos' halls.

_Who... what is she?_ His mind continued to wonder. Glorfindel was determined to find out. And so, he drank the drought in full, not even complaining about its bitter taste. Even with elven healing abilities, he had a long way to go before he would be strong enough to travel. Glorfindel was certain that he could unravel some of Raven's secrets before then.

It was with this determination in his mind that he slowly fell asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

While her guest was asleep, Evelyn took the time to escape the confinement of the cave and gather more supplies. She left Nightshade to guard the sleeping elf and knew that the faithful wolf would fetch her if he seemed to be in distress. Evelyn spent most of that night gathering more herbs as she had a feeling that this patient would severely deplete her stock. On her way back to the cave however, she spotted a hare darting across her path. With one smooth sweep she notched an arrow and let it fly, granting her and her guest fresh meat for the night's meal.

When she arrived back at the cave, the elf- Glorfindel, was still asleep. She sent a reluctant Nightshade out to hunt for her dinner as Evelyn's hare was hardly enough for all three of them. The wolf seemed uneasy about leaving Evelyn with the stranger, but a quick sniff informed Nightshade that the elf would not be waking anytime soon.

Evelyn then set about preparing a thickened soup and another does of herbal tea. This time she made the tea with painkillers and fever reducers, but no tranquilizers as she knew that his last dosage had been much higher than it should have been. The soup was a necessity as she was under the impression that the elf would need to be eating liquids for at least a little while. She had literally stitched his intestines back together and thus was under the impression that solids might be a bit much.

She then set about the task of cleaning up the elf. She had already washed the ilk of battle off of herself in a stream whilst collecting herbs, but Glorfindel still had thick globs of black orc blood caught in his hair and splattered across his fair skin. Evelyn was careful to wipe the foul substance from his skin, drying it to prevent a chill- _of course, if elves get chills._She then set about combing through Glorfindel's hair with water and soap, gently removing the tangles and globs of blood and other substances that she had no desire to investigate. As she finished, she paused for a moment to redo the braids that he wore in his hair before she combed them out, the same braids that he wore in the dream- _memory,_ from long ago.

Over the next several hours, Nightshade returned to the cave with a hint of blood around her jaws, indicating a successful hunt. Evelyn finished eating her portion of soup, and upon realizing that the sedative dosage was indeed strong, left the second half of the pot and the tea close enough to the fire to keep them warm through the night. She then curled up on her sleeping pelts, using Nightshade's warm side a a pillow, and fell asleep with her hand on the hilt of one of her blades. Evelyn found herself sleeping surprisingly easily for having a stranger in her abode.

The next morning she awoke to a large, furry head placed over her own. Nightshade had curled further around Evelyn and laid her head across the girl's, blocking her sight. Evelyn laughed lightly and pushed Nightshade's head off of her, only to lock eyes with her newest houseguest.

Glorfindel's bright blue eyes shone in the dark of the fading embers of the fire and Evelyn found herself lost in them for several moments as her mind wandered back to that night when her dream felt all too real. For a split second, Evelyn wondered if this was a dream. Then, the events of the previous day and the sting from her arm wound reminded her that Glorfindel was indeed sitting across from her. She sighed lightly and went about her chores: stoking the fire, stirring last night's broth, and washing her face in a nearby pitcher of water.

Evelyn then scooped up a small cupful of water and offered it to the blond elf who drank it without a word. _If we're playing the silent game then I hope he knows what he is getting into,_ Evelyn thought wryly. She continued to care for the elf, checking his wound, changing the bandage, and feeding him his broth. Just when she thought that she would indeed be left in peace for the rest of the day, Glorfindel spoke up.

"I see that you have another cup of tea prepared for me," his voice was quiet with pain, but he spoke with a spark of mischief glinting in his eyes. "But, I would request that you please reduce the dose of Bitterscorn in it as I do not think an elf, even of my height, is meant to consume so much."

"This batch has no sleep inducer," Evelyn said as she brought the cup up to Glorfindel's lips. "There are easier ways to kill a bound elf."

"Ah, so she has no name, but a sense of humor."

Evelyn did not dignify the quip with a response, but did send him a glare that hinted that she was not quite joking. After she finished administering the tea, she left the grinning elf under the care of Nightshade. She needed some air.

As soon as she left the bounds of the cave she launched herself into the sky, flying high above the rolling plains and forests until it looked like she was gazing down on a miniature diorama, until she brushed the bottoms of the chilly clouds and could easily be mistaken as a bird from far below. It was at this height that she could ride the currents of the wind, soaring with ease as if she were born with wings on her back. Sometimes she would join with flocks of geese or other large fowl. The birds had a tendency of merely accepting her, of not noticing that she was not a being of feathers. They would fly together as a flock and Evelyn would feel the tugs of warmth through companionship pulling at her heart.

This day however, she sought out solitude. She needed only the open air, biting wind, and blazing sun to sooth her soul. She needed the crispness of the open sky to remind herself that even when in the presence of an elf, she was not in danger. She was not about to die at the fiery hands of a flaming beast, nor was she locked away in a cold dungeon by beings of uncaring nature. She was free.

Only when the sun had past its highest point did Evelyn reluctantly turn and fly back home, folding her wings behind herself as she entered the cave. There she found her guest slowly waking from an after meal nap and her faithful friend standing guard.

"You seem better," Glorfindel spoke with a small smile. "Where were you?"

"Out."

"What were you doing?"

"Flying."

"Oh lovely! Where to?"

"Nowhere."

"Well I myself do often enjoy riding for the sake of riding," he still held that ridiculous grin on his face. _Perhaps I have been too generous with the Warthwarn fungus, _Evelyn mused as he continued his pleasant chatter. "However, sometimes Asfaloth does get annoyed when we seem to be going nowhere. I do enjoy a chance to clear my head however."

Evelyn made no reply and simple set about chopping hearty root vegetables to create another thick soup. Nightshade growled lightly in protest and Evelyn sent her out with a flick of her wrist. She had a feeling that the wolf would be bringing back a larger piece of game that night and so also pulled out her skinning knife, a jar of salt, and the other tools she would need for preserving some of the meat. As she worked, Glorfindel seemed determined to cajole her into conversation.

"You have a lovely home here. How long have you lived here?"

"What is your real name?"

"What are you, if you don't mind me asking? I have only ever seen a being like you once, centuries ago and she looked so similar to you."

"What do you know of your ancestry?"

"You are quite skilled in healing. Where did you learn such things?"

"Perhaps more importantly, where did you learn to fight thusly? I have never seen a creature, save very few elves of great renown, fight with such speed and precision as you."

"Do you intend to answer any of my questions?"

Evelyn acted as if she could not hear him as she worked on her preparations. Soon enough, Nightshade did return and signaled that she wished to be followed. Evelyn took her skinning knife and found Nightshade standing above an elk carcass. She praised the wolf lightly and quickly set about field dressing the beast, pulling forth and tossing aside the organs that she had no intention of eating. She compiled the scraps into a large pile and tossed them onto a large tree stump knowing that within a few hours, the bests of the nearby forest would completely consume the scraps.

She washed her hands in the stream and allowed Nightshade to drag the carcass into the cave where she continued to ignore Glorfindel as she set some of the meat over the fire to roast and preserved another chunk with salt and a slow flame. The rest, Nightshade enjoyed with great gusto.

Glorfindel was in and out of consciousness this entire time as his cheerful interrogations earlier had worn him out. He was still healing and his body was struggling to keep an infection at bay. Evelyn, for her part, was glad for the reprieve as she had grown increasingly frustrated by his chatter.

Just when she thought that she would be able to settle in for the night and sleep, Nightshade bolted upright, ears perked and a low growl emanating from deep within her chest.

"What is is Shade?" Evelyn whispered, hand already straying to her sword belt.

The wolf turned to look Evelyn in the eyes and, through the unspoken understanding that the two always seemed to share, Evelyn knew.

_Orcs_

She strapped her belt on, tossed the hood of her cloak back up, and sprinted out of cave. Nightshade was close at her heels and continued to sprint in the direction of the orcs whilst Evelyn took to the sky to survey from above. They were far enough from her home that she was not too concerned with them nearing, and so she set about to observe their presence. Nightshade, knowing her part well, dissolved into the shadows of the woods which the orcs were approaching.

Evelyn landed lighting on a tree branch, perched like a bird as she watched the orcs trudge through the forest. The beasts were as stupid as they were clumsy and so they jostled amount each other. They were heading away from her home and so Evelyn planned only to follow them until they were far enough away for safety. However, then she spotted him.

She didn't get a full view of the creature, but saw from the corner of her eye an orc that was far larger than the others. It was taller and stood with the straight back of a man, far up at the front of the orc-band. She immediately knew that she needed to get a closer look and so hopped lightly from tree branch to tree branch. The trees seemed to know that discretion was necessary and as such held themselves firm, not allowing the girl to slip, nor shaking their branches to create noise and draw attention.

As she neared the front of the pack, Evelyn's heart skipped a beat. She was right in her instinct that is was no normal orc leading the group. No, it was indeed taller, broader, and moved with more grace than any of its fellow beasts. The creature's eyes were unsettling as well. Unlike the orcs with their dull and listless gazes, this beast's eyes were bright and clear, they held a sharpness which begat intelligence.

_An Uruk hai, _Evelyn's mind supplied. Going back to her knowledge of Tolkien's works, she noticed that this beast lacked the which handprint mark of Saruman. It also chose to travel at night with the other orcs and thus was likely not immune to sunlight yet. _The Uruk-hai of Sauron... but how long until Saruman crosses them with man to make beasts even more foul?_

Having seen enough, Evelyn sounded low whistle that to any other would seem but a night bird. It was however all the signal that Nightshade needed to turn around and meet Evelyn back at the cave. As Evelyn lept from tree to tree, she had enough time to think and mull over that the presence of the Uruk-hai meant.

_I suppose it is about time that we have a chat... _Evelyn pondered in regards to her guest.

* * *

"Ada!" a voice screamed from below the window of Lord Elrond's study. He recognized the voice immediately and was on his feet in an instant. Having reached their majority long ago, it had been centuries since he last heard one of his sons cry out such.

The Lord of Imaldris raced to his window and saw the small patrol band send out several days ago racing across the bridge. At the head rode Elladan, blood, both red and black could clearly be seen coating his clothing and the horses looked as if they would collapse any second. A quick glance informed Elrond that his younger son, Elrohir, was lingering at the back of the party to support a wounded elf. With the reassurance that both of his sons returned, Elrond quickly grabbed his healing satchel and raced down the stairs to greet them.

"Ion-nin," Elrond called as he neared his eldest's horse. Said elf lept, or more so collapsed, from his steed into his father's arms as he had not since they lost his mother many years ago. "What is the matter, where is the rest of the patrol?"

"We lost Canrion and Sadriel is severely wounded," he managed between gasps. "But Glorfindel, Glorfindel stayed behind. There may have been 40 orcs, all riding wargs who gave chase. We rode here as fast as we could. He told us to warn you."

With those words Elladan pitched forward once more, a deep gash on his arm was still spilling blood as he swayed unsteadily.

"It was three days out, between the two hills," Elrohir, appearing just as exhausted as his bother supplied.

This was all the information that Elrond needed as he immediately snapped into action, waving his hand for the healers waiting nearby to approach. Two elves immediately lifted Sadriel from the front of Elrohir's horse and placed her on a litter in order to carry her to the healing halls.

"You did well my son," elrond whispered into his eldest's ear before passing him off to another elf to help him to the halls. Elrond then did a quick check on all the elves present and barked out orders to the healers on which order to treat their patients. Both of his sons were exhausted, but none in the party has life-threatening injuries save Sadriel. Once he was certain that his patients would be cared for, he turned to Cuhador who was in Glorfindel's second in command.

"I want you to organize a party of your fasted riders to follow their path and find Glorfindel."

"It will be done my Lord," Cuhador said with a fist planted across his chest and a quick bow. He then turned and raced towards the barracks, no doubt to collect the warriors that he would need.

Elrond stayed behind for a few moments longer until Lindir could arrive and organize the equipment and horses as the warriors were far too exhausted to care for their own mounts. Upon Lindir's arrival, Elrond escaped back to his study where he found his faithful counselor Erestor already waiting.

"The healers had to sedate both of your sons to prevent them from racing back out after Glorfindel half crazed from lack of rest," Erestor's voice was as stoic as always. "However, Sadriel is safe and will likely make a full recovery in the next week."

"And the search party?"

"Already underway. They will leave in the next half hour as soon as their packs can be readied." Erestor paused for a moment, watching the way worry etched its way across Elrond's brow. "They will find him my Lord."

As he said these words, Elrond stood and abruptly walked out the door, followed close behind by Erestor. The Lord's path took him to his chambers where he threw open the door and walked directly to an old, wooden chest. He pulled up the lid and removed a light armor along with a leather tunic.

"My Lord," Erestor spoke cautiously. "I would advise against..."

"We will find him," Elrond spoke, ignoring Erestor's attempts of protest. "I will join the hunting party. Have my horse readied. You will be in charge until my return."

"But the diplomats from Erebor are set to arrive in seven days," Erestor prompted.

"If we do not find him before then, I shall return and let the party continue without me." Elrond spoke stiffly, not giving voice the fact that they both knew; if they did not find Glorfindel within seven days, then it was likely that they never would.

"Be safe, mellon nin," he spoke with a resigned sigh.

Elrond nodded his head and finished changing and strapping his weapons on. He raced to join the party waiting in the courtyard. Swinging onto his horse, he looked at the warriors accompanying him. The party of thirty all wore light armor and had minimum supplies in order to keep their horses swift. Unlike the scouting party however, these warriors were heavily armed with bows, spears, swords, and knives.

"We ride to the twin hills, we ride to find Glorfindel and the pestilence that plagues our land," Elrond cried before giving his horse a kick and thundering across the stone bridge of Imaldris's main entrance.

_We will find you, _Elrond thought, determination darkening his brow.


	14. Chapter 14

"We need to talk."

Raven's bright eyes glittered from above her mask as she leveled her gave at Glorfindel. The elf, having just awoken from another uncomfortable sleep, adjusted his posture slightly. He subtly tugged on his bonds once more and for what felt like the dozenth time, marveled at the skill in the knots and the way that elvish rope held.

"Well I have been absolutely starved for conversation," Glorfindel smiled. Despite his carefree tone, he was taking great care to choose his words delicately. He had not forgotten how the strange maiden reacted to him referring to her as a "jailor" before. "What is it that you would like to discuss?"

"What is the date?"

"Pardon?" Glorfindel relied, genuinely surprised by the turn of events. "I must apologize, but my sense of time is rather off as I have slept rather more than I am oft to..."

"I don't need the day... just the year," she moved around the cave as she spoke, flitting like a robin from branch to branch, never landing in one place for long.

"Well, it is the Third Age, 3015."

"The Third Age..." she nearly whispered. "I was right..."

Glorfindel remained silent as she contemplated the information that he had given, wondering how any being could be so amazed by the century of the Middle Earth.

Raven paused, turning still for a moment before cocking her head to the side as if in thought. She drummed her fingers aimlessly on a small panel of wood which seemed to serve as some sort of counter before turning and facing Glorfindel once more. She strode quickly across the cave until her face was inches away from Glorfindel's own. Glorfindel almost found himself averting his eyes from the glow emanating from hers.

"Well I do suppose that the Third Age is a rather lovely one," Gorfindel supplied, hoping to break the tension. It had no such affect however as Raven's hands found their way to Glorfindel's shoulders, squeezing with a grip far firmer than what could be expected from one so slight.

"No... it is not. You must speak truly and honestly. Elves for all their arrogance are supposedly not beings of deception," her voice came out in a whispered hiss. "Has the house of Elrond fostered a human boy given the name of Estel?"

Glorfindel was shocked, so shocked by the unexpected question in fact that his eyes widened slightly before he could school his features. _How does this maiden know of Lord Elrond and Estel? _It seemed that his reaction was enough of an answer for Raven and she released his bound arms and stood, pacing soundlessly back and forth across the dirt floor of the cave.

"Tell me... how old is he now," she turned her ever sharp gaze on him again.

Glorfindel was at a loss for words. He did not know what to make of this line of questioning, but he did fear for the safety of Elrond's young ward.

"These are questions that I cannot answer," Glorfindel spoke slowly, suddenly cognizant of the ropes binding his wrists, ankles, and throat; his mind wandering to his still tender wound which was far from healed enough to even crawl, let alone walk.

"I seek no secret knowledge... Glorfindel of Gondolin, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower," she spoke his old title with a bite of bitterness on her tongue. The words shocked him. Few mortals knew of the elven tales. "Or do you prefer the address of Laurefindil as it was your old name?"

Glorfindel was hardly cognizant of the venom with which she spat her words as the shock of them set in. She knew far too much for a mere mortal child. Whatever creature she was, whatever lineage she came from, there was something more to her.

"How do you know such about me?" He asked, voice quiet.

"You will answer my question," those eyes still blazed.

"My Lord's foster son has reached his 83rd year. He no longer lives in the household." Glorfindel supplied that last bit of information in hopes that Raven did not have some sort of vendetta against the Edain.

"No, I suspect that he does not..." Glorfindel did not hear the rest which she seemed to mumble under her breath, but he could have sworn that he caught the word "rangers" in her aside.

"You never answered my query," Glorfindel prodded gently, hoping to obtain some information from that which he gave.

"I know many things," her voice was a sneer. "Far more than you elves can even begin to comprehend."

Glorfindel took careful note on how the word "elves" fell from her lips like a curse. He thought back through his time under Raven's care and noticed how she touched him as little as possible, how she avoided his waking presence like some plague by leaving that wolf of hers to always stand guard. Something was certainly wrong.

"I am not one to pry," she scoffed slightly at those words, but allowed Glorfindel to continue. "But, I couldn't help but notice that you from the beginning of our meeting you seemed to hold a certain amount of resentment towards my kin. Might I inquire why?"

She laughed aloud at this and busied herself at picking burs out of her wolf's coat, back turned to Glorfindel. Glorfindel however was patient, and thus by waiting was eventually rewarded with a response.

"I did not always hate the elves... When all I had were stories passed on through my Grandfather and old books, I thought of your kind as beautiful, wise, and noble creatures." She turned, pointing her dagger in his direction to emphasize her point. "Then I met the elves and learned that though beautiful, your kind are foolish and ignoble beings filled with malice."

"And yet you help me."

"And yet I do."

With those words, she turned her attention to her wolf and the pair seemed to have a silent conversation before Raven abruptly turned and left the cave, not sparing a second glance at Glorfindel.

Said elf was then stuck with his fierce watcher as he chewed over their conversation in his mind. This Raven was strange indeed. She knew far more than any mortal should and she seemed to despise elves in every way. Glorfindel found his mind wandering back to that night of Gondolin's fall. He recalled the tiny figure bearing wings who sheltered him, cradling his head as he slipped to Mandos' Halls. How could this Raven be of the same kin as that girl? He had never, outside of these two individuals, seen beings of such strange form in all of Middle Earth. The resemblance of dark hair, slanted eyes, and black wings was too great for them not to be of the same blood, and yet how had the ages changed their perspective of elves?

Glorfindel shifted slightly in place, careful not too struggle too much for fear of further damaging his stomach, or worse, angering the wolf watching over him. He settled the best that he could under the circumstances and fell into another fitful slumber, hoping dearly that Raven would remember to give him another painkilling brew when she got back.

* * *

"On the horizon!" One of the younger, more keen eyed scouts called out, causing the party to come to an abrupt halt.

"Does it approach?"

"Yes my Lord," the elf replied smartly.

Elrond watched as a white speck appeared in the distance, steadily making its way towards the party. They had been wandering for several hours as after reaching the sight of the battle between the elves and orcs, the trail had somehow gone cold. They knew that Glorfndel raced forth from the sight with a pack of wargs on his heels, but there was no evidence of a trail out. No trodden grass nor broken branches.

"We ride to meet it," he called, already spurring his horse forward.

The other followed suit and it was not long before the figure could be spotted as a pure white horse. It was traveling at a weird trot, sweat beading its flank and several long, shallow gashes lazily leaked blood which stained its coat crimson.

"It is Asfaloth," Cuhador stated, voice tense. "He is Glorfindel's most trusted."

The white stallion neighed softly as if in agreement, immediately approaching Elrond who still sat astride his own mount. The horse nudged Elrond's side gently, nickering and causing the lord to idly pet his forelock.

"We camp here tonight. I want scouts sent in every direction searching for any sign of Glorfindel. Idher," Elrond spoke gently, doing his best to not allow any emotion into his tone. "Tend to Asfaloth's wounds."

The wound healer nodded and immediately dismounted, reaching for Asfaloth who only went with her after some gentle encouragement. Quickly, scouts were sent off and the rest of the elves broke a simple camp, tending to their horses in the nearby stream. Elrond, wearied but ever fair, assisted the other elves in the chores, doing his fair share despite his title.

"Asfaloth would not leave Glorfindel easily," Cuhador mused, speaking quietly behind Elrond so that none but the two of them would hear.

"I fear that you are right."

"But we must have hope yet my Lord," he added with a sad smile which did not reach his eyes. "Remember, he once faced a Balrog. A pack of orcs and wargs should not bring him down."

Elrond merely nodded and finished setting up his bedroll, taking care to brush away and small rocks. As he did so, he pondered as to how no trail was found leading away from the battle. Asfaloth had obviously left the sight, but there was no record of him leaving, only prints of his return. It was as if the very earth itself had erased all traces of the Gondolian veteran.

As Elrond turned in his bedroll that night however, his mind wandered back to Cuhador's words, his reminder that Glorfindel once faced a Balrog. Sadly, his thoughts were inevitably drawn toward how that battle ended.

"He did not survive the Balrog though," he whispered so silently, none but himself could hear.

Looking to the stars, he gave a silent prayer to Eru, the Valar, and even his own father's star, asking them if they could, in their mercy, bring Glorfindel back to him.

It seemed that at least Lorien, Master of Dreams, heard his plea. That night he slept soundly images of Glorfindel, one of his closest companions and the rock that steadied him after the loss of his wife, weary but whole, wandering our of the woods to greet their party. His golden hair shining in the sun and that warm smile of his gently teasing Elrond for his concern. Although he would not remember the dream come morning, his heart would still feel its warmth.

* * *

"Why do you play favorites with the Perhedel?" Yavanna chided Lorien. "Why is it that you grant him sweet dream which stay with him, but give the child and Glorfindel horrendous memories in their sleep?"

"He has lost so much already."

"And she has not?"

"Perhaps I should be asking why it is that you favor the child so?" Lorien raised an eyebrow, amusement crowning his face.

"You know the answer," Yavanna replied tightly. "Her destiny is a hard one."

Before Lorien could present another barb, Varda stepped between them.

"What is done is done," her tone was even but her eyes gave no room for argument. "We must move forward."

The other two Valar nodded in agreement before dispersing, each having a separate task to complete. It was a tricky game that they were playing, rules of non involvement were firm and Eru would not be pleased if they meddled. In the end it would come down to the actions of those who walked the land of Middle Earth, they would determine the fate of their world. Be it salvation or doom, they would walk into it by their own choices.

The Valar could only hope that they made the right ones.

* * *

Evelyn, in shock, veered upwards rapidly. Her wings beat out a fierce rhythm until she could feel hot blood coursing through her veins as she forced herself to climb high up in the sky until she became no more than a mere speck above.

She had to get out of their sight range

Below her, in the spot where the elves and orcs had battled several days before, was an entire camp of elves. Somewhere near thirty forms were spread out, glowing softly in the moonlight as half slept, half stood watch. Next to their camp, an equal number of horses grazed and Evelyn had time to spot the pure white stallion that Glorfindel rode among them. The creature must have run into the party on his way back to Imaldris and it did not take Evelyn long to realize that these elves must be from the hidden city, out searching for Glorfindel.

A sharp spire of fear pierced Evelyn's heart, causing her to loose her rhythm for a moment, almost falling from the sky. She quickly righted herself and recalled that there should be no way for them to track her to her home. She had asked the earth to cover Glorifndel's tracks to the battle sight, and asked it once more to cover the tracks leading to her abode. The grasses, shrubs, and trees seemed to understand her just as Nightshade did, just as Tawny did, and she knew that there would be no trace.

There was a slight chance that if they were lucky, the elves would find the sight of their battle as few creatures fed on orc or warg flesh, but they would have nowhere to go from there.

_I am safe._

_They can't find me. _

_They won't catch me._

She repeated the words like a mantra in her head, reminding herself that she would never again feel chains or be trapped in a cage below the earth.

For a brief moment, she contemplated leading the elves to Glorfindel and ridding herself of his presence. She knew that Aragorn was 86 during the events of the Lord of the Rings books and thus the ring and the war were almost upon Middle Earth. If she got rid of Glorfindel, then she could return to her solitude, return to presenting that the rest of the world wasn't burning around her. Middle Earth would go to war and lives would be lost, but the good, _or at least better than Sauron_, would triumph in the end and none of it would effect Evelyn and Nightshade in their little hiding place.

But, another part of her reasoned, in Glrofindel state there was no way that she would be able to move him without ripping open his wounds. If she wished to be rid of him then she would have to lead the elves to her cave, she would have to approach the military party and show them her hidden home. That was something that she could not do.

_Besides, _a quiet and frightened part of her reasoned. _Do you really want him to go?_

She squashed that part of her mind mercilessly and flew back home, resolved that she would not approach even more elves. Instead, she fixed her mask and walked down the tunnel into her hidden cave, greeting a cheerful Nightshade and nodding silently in acknowledgment to Glorfindel.

Remembering that in her anger before, she failed to administer Glorfindel's medicine, she immediately began brewing the healing tea. Pouring it gently into a cup and brought the drink over to Glorfindel who required less assistance than before in drinking it.

"My thanks, Lady Raven," he spoke softly after being administered his tea. The caution in Glorfindel's eyes reminded Evelyn of the fury that she exploded with earlier, indicating that he was likely cautiously attempting to avoid further angering her.

"Is it true that elves do not scar," she asked suddenly, surprising even herself with her question. "It is said that once you fought a Balrog, and yet I see no scars on your body," she continued, curiosity compelling her.

"In most cases, elves can heal without scarring," Glorfindel spoke with a hint of a sad smile. "Very few, very powerful, wounds would never heal and most elves with such injuries hide them with magic though they still lie below the surface. The scars of a Balrog are such, and even though I was reborn with a new body, the Balrog scar still lie below the surface," he paused and hesitated for a moment. "Brining them forth is a painful and difficult task, one that I could not undergo in my current state... but perhaps one day I will show you."

"That is quite an offer," Raven almost whispered her words.

"True, it is not one that I normally give," Glorfindel hesitated once more, seemingly lost for words. "But, seeing as one of your kin was there when I received them... it seems only fair."

"How do you know one of my kin," Evelyn asked, her own hear rate increasing. She squashed the urge to raise her hand upward and feel her mask to assure herself that it was still in place. She was certain that he did not know her identity.

"The similarities are too stark for you to not be kin," at this, Glrofindel's face broke into a genuine smile. "I have lived for many ages and thus watched generation lines pass. I know the feeling of looking at someone and seeing the echo of their ancestors in them."

Evelyn only nodded and busied herself with tending to her home. She tied bundles of herbs to dry over the fire, sorted her water skins, dusted her sleeping pelts, brushed through Nightshade's fur, and basically conducted anything possible to avoid looking at the golden elf tied in the corner.

"If we are exchanging tales of our past, might I make and inquiry?" Glorfindel spoke. Evelyn ignored him and continued with her busy work, only pausing when Glorfindel asked his actual question. "You mentioned your Grandfather telling you tales... did he know any elves?"

Evelyn paused, memories of her old Grandfather surging back into her mind. She had tried so long since reaching Middle Earth to put him out of her mind. His twinkling eyes and faded smile, he was a man of the earth and of kindness. She recalled the tales he would tell her of fairies and ghosts, of witches and magic which flowed through the forests, tales of caution to never follow a will-o-whisp for they were tricky things indeed. The old man's gentle soul would be crushed if he were to now what his precious elves were like in reality.

"Although my Grandfather often claimed to have met elves and other beings of myth," she spoke gently, forcing the old memories from her mind. "He never did. He was a dreamer and a weaver of tales while I was always his favorite audience."

"I think I should like to have met him," Glorfindel mused.

"I think he would have liked that," was all Evelyn replied before the two fell into an easy silence. Whatever had occurred before, perhaps they made peace with one another... if only a little bit.


	15. Chapter 15

After spending the day scavenging near the base of the nearby mountains, Evelyn finally had enough perfectly sized obsidian. She returned to her cave, checking that her hood and mask remained up before entering. She then sent Nightshade off for her nightly hunt. After she checked on Glorfindel who was deep in sleep, she set aside her stones and began preparing a meal for them. The elf went through cycles of sleep and waking, never staying awake for very long.

Although the wound across his stomach was healing, he was far from a healthy elf. In many ways, Evelyn was relatively surprised that he was still alive at all. She had stitched his internal organs back together, a technique that she assumed would not be adopted for some time yet as there was absolutely no way to maintain an area even close to sanitary enough for the procedure. She did the best she could, but operating with home made bone needles in a cave is no way to do massive trauma surgery. Thus, the elf's body was constantly battling with infection. Over the days his fever waxed and waned, sometimes he was clear and coherent enough to speak and annoy Evelyn. Other days he was so feverish that he would speak in delirium and pull at his bonds.

As she heard a slight mumbling coming from the corner, Evelyn knew that it would be one of the latter days.

She turned to her patient and rested her wrist against his forehead, finding it so hot to the touch that if he were a man he would likely be dead. Evelyn immediately dashed to her herb stash and pulled forth the strongest fever reducers that she had, quickly adding water and pounding them into a watery paste. She had no modern antibiotics and thus had to make due.

Taking her concoction, Evelyn cradled Glorfindel's head and forced the viscous fluid down his throat. The elf laughed and gagged, weakly moving his head away from her, but she did not budge. Finally, once he finished the last swallow, Evelyn dunked several cloths in water sitting in an earthen pot, buried in the cool earth. She bathed Glorfindel's brow with the water and pushed aside his tunic to allow him to cool off faster.

The elf tugged weakly at his bonds, and Evelyn felt her heart constrict for a moment. At that sight of the blond elf, eyes closed and muttering incomprehensible words of his own language, pitiful mews coming from his mouth as he attempted to curl in further on himself yet stopped by the thick ropes, Evelyn felt a pang of guilt for keeping him restrained so. But, fear is a powerful motivator and even though Evelyn knew logically that there was nothing that he could do in such a state, Evelyn was afraid.

Thus, her plans for using her obsidian were set aside and she spent the night sitting vigil over the elf, watching as his fever climbed higher and higher, hoping that it would finally reach its peak and fall. The fire in the hearth cast a warm glow across the cave and Evelyn slowed her feeing of it, hoping to cool the air and maybe, perchance to lessen his fever. Even as his body burned, he shivered, teeth chattering together between whimpers

As the moon rose in the sky, Nightshade returned and laid across the entrance of the cave facing inward. She placed her head on her forelimbs and rested where she could watch both Evelyn and Glorfindel as the former attempted to calm the worst fever yet. The girl reached back into her memories, recalling all that she could about infections. She feared that she may be dealing with sepsis, but she hadn't known if elves could even get it. Tolkien had always described them as beings immune to sickness.

Belatedly, Evelyn recalled the elves that she had seen several days ago. They would know how to treat Glorfindel. If they were indeed from Imaldris, then they would surly take him to Elrond. If the elven lord could- or would in the future, heal a Ringwraith wound then he would surly be capable of saving Glorfindel. Evelyn's mind was at war. It likely wouldn't be difficult for her to track down the party... but she couldn't bring Glorfindel to them. She would have to bring them to him. _No, it's too risky,_ a voice in her head, a voice that had saved her life too many times to be ignored reminded her. Evelyn's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Glorfindel whose speech was becoming somewhat coherent now.

"Naur," he gasped, arching his back and pulling weakly at his bonds. "Baw, baw." The elf was thrashing back and forth, strands of golden hair stuck to his sweat covered brow as he tossed his head in the throes of a fever induced nightmare. "Elenya, Elenya mëlde, mecin!"

Evelyn did all that she could, she whispered soothing words, she bathed his brow and forced thick concoctions of fever reducers and immune supporters down his throat. The air in the cave became sickly sweet with the scent of medicinal herbs and Evelyn's claustrophobia grew. She feared sleep for two causes: she did not know what would be become of Glorfindel through the night, and she was not sure if even Nightshade's warmth could keep the nightmares of Balrogs or dungeons in check.

Eventually however, she did fall asleep with her wolf curled up around her, soft fur and slow, gentle breaths lulled her to sleep as she did her best to ignore the fevered cries of her house guest.

The next morning, small bits of sunlight filtering through the cracks in the cave's ceiling woke Evelyn from her slumber. As she sat up, she stroked Nightshade's dark fur in thanks for her help in chasing away nightmares. She had only woken once during the night, her mind had strayed back to the cold, dank, and damp loneliness of an elvish prison. In her sleep landed mind, the sleeping elf she saw beside her, looking far to alike to the elves of Mirkwood, did not help her panic. Her dear Shade however was always a steady comfort and allowed her to sleep the rest of the night in peace.

As she thought of the elf currently living in her home, Evelyn scanned her eyes across the cave till they fell on his form. He was sitting somewhat upright and his eyes looked remarkably clear. It seemed that her concoctions and the elf's natural healing abilities paid off eventually as his fever obviously broke sometime during the night. A sense of relief flooded Evelyn's system which she tried to squash, reminding herself that there was no reason to grow too attached to an elf. But there he sat, bright eyed and looking remarkably too cheerful for having just barely escaped death yet again. Before she could make a comment about it however, he spoke first.

"You wear your hair like an elvish warrior," he smiled lightly, head tilted as he inspected her.

Evelyn's hands flew to her head, finding that though her mask remained, her hood had slipped off sometime during the night. She considered his words, remembering that the elves wear their hair in styles to denote their rank, their skills, and their status. She was wearing the same as Glorfindel, the braids of a warrior of the sword.

"Does it offend you that I wear such," she sneered. A vague comment about how her kind did what they pleased was already on her lips when he spoke again, a small, apologetic frown on his lips.

"Nothing of the sort. Such a style suits you for you fight as well as any elvish warrior," a small smile broke out on his face again. "However, your braids are single, thus denoting a sword. You seem much keener on battling with the twin knives. Two braids on each side would better suit you."

"I prefer it as it is."

"Of course. Well, it appears that we match," the smile stretching across his face was stunning for one who was murmuring in a fevered panic the night before. Evelyn briefly wondered if the fever had damaged his brain or if he was always this infuriatingly happy.

"I don't care," she snapped back.

"Oh, of course not... it was just an observation."

The pair lapsed into silence after that, neither willing to open the conversation back up. As usual, Evelyn and Nightshade took turns leaving the cave, neither willing to trust the stranger on his own. As night fell, just when Evelyn thought that the elf might have finally tired of asking questions that he would clearly receive no answers to, Glorfindel decided to attempt to start a conversation again.

"So, how did you sleep last night," he asked in a tone with too much force casualness.

"I slept little. Much of the night was spent attempting to bring down your fever."

"Thank you for that..." he hesitated slightly. "But, I think it broke sometime soon after you fell asleep. And... I could not help but notice you did not seem to be resting with ease. I could see you shivering though there was no chill, and when you woke you were grasping for breath."

Evelyn forced back the memories attempting to resurface as she processed the fact that the elf had witnessed her nightmares, had witnessed her weaknesses. She remembered how she would occasionally overhear other guards and soldiers speaking as they passed through the dungeons. They knew when she could hear them as they would often switch to common so that she could understand them. She could still hear their mocking tones as they mimicked her pleadings to the King, her cries and her desperate pleas to believe her. Elves preyed upon weaknesses.

"I would say that your sleep was far more troubled than mine," Evelyn drawled. "You were speaking in your tongue, gasping for breath and what sounded almost like pleas. It must have been quite the nightmare."

"I'm sorry," she turned to look at the elf and saw that he looked so mournful, it was as if his vigor and energy suddenly drained from his body. "My mind must have wondered back... it seems you already know, but I died long ago in an attempt to save my city from a Balrog, a fire demon conjured of the blackest dark magic. What did I say?"

"I do not know your tongue..." Evelyn's voice held a hint of mistrust as she tried to recall what she had been able to make out through his ramblings. "But you did repeat two words rather often... e_lenya_ and _mecin. _What to they mean?" Her curiosity was overcoming her as she asked the question. A small smile broke across Glorfindel's lips, but his tone became even more sorrowful.

"I do not seek to keep secrets from you. They are both Quenya, the tongue I first learned as an elfling. I was pleading for help... from Elenya."

"And who is Elenya?" Evelyn's mind noted the feminine sound of it, wondering if she was perhaps an unlisted lover of the ancient Glorifindel of Gondolin.

"No real name, just one that I made up for the young maiden who was with me that night... when the armies and flames came." His gaze became glazed as his mind was lost in the throes of a memory. "She was like you, but younger. She came from nowhere just as I thought that I would meet my end... she distracted the Balrog, drawing it towards herself as she was armed with nothing but the stones she lifted from the ground. She gave me enough time to kill it and prevented the monster from destroying the rest of the survivors of my city."

"She sounds foolish," Evelyn remarked lightly, refusing to make eye contact with the elf as some irrational part of her feared that he would see through her mask.

"She was courageous. She held me in her arms, cradled my head and told me that the people she could hear above us were safe... she tried to staunch the bleeding of a fatal wound and did not release her grasp on me until my spirit was gone."

"And somehow you think the two of us are related."

"You did save my life," a hint of mirth was back in Glorfindel's eyes as the haze of memory faded. He turned his head towards her, speaking softly. "I am sorry if I frightened you when I was fevered. The wound I received that night was all to similar to the one from several days ago and the pain must have brought my nightmares back."

"You cannot control what visions sleep brings you," she spoke, voice tense. "Let us forget about the incident."

Glorfindel merely nodded his head.

The pair then continued their routine. Evelyn reminded quiet, hidden behind her mask as she and Nightshade did their best to pretend that the elf was not there even as they took turns standing guard.

Eventually, Evelyn pulled out her buckskin pouch and began slowly knapping at each piece of obsidian stone. The light of the fire cast bold colors across the black glass as she carefully formed arrowheads. Glorfindel watched with rapt attention, at one point mentioning how in Imaldris the blacksmiths created arrowheads of metal with perfect balance. He made a light offer to take her to a smithy and purchase her whatever weapons she wished for.

All this of course Evelyn merely ignored.

* * *

They had pushed their horses to their limit as they raced after the fleet scout who had successfully found the place where Asfaloth had come from. The signs of a battle were unmistakable... as were the half rotted orc carcasses. Nothing in nature save the flys and worms would feed upon the dark flesh and thus, the bodies were half rotted and obviously a few days old.

"Scour it for clues," Elrond ordered, though his soldiers were already dismounting to do just that.

The walked along the stinking flesh, sunlight having allowed the bodies to grow to an even greater stench than that of a living orc. Many of the elves, though warriors hardened through war and travel, held cloths to their noses in attempt to lessen the filthy stench of the putrid orcs.

The signs of Glorfindel were obvious, from the deep gashes which could only be made by the great broadsword which he favorited, to the arcs of killed orcs where multiple beasts were slayed with a single swipe, one of the Lord's signature styles.

There was however, something odd.

There was evidence of another.

Among the corpses of orcs, the elves found arrows fletched with long, black feathers: the size of an eagle's, yet the color of a raven's. One elf used the tip of an orcish blade to pierce the skin of a decomposing orc and dig forth the point of one of the arrows. It was made not of steel, but of black obsidian stone which had been carefully chipped into a deadly point. The arrowhead was affixed to the shaft with not the special resin which the elves used, but dried rawhide. It was certainly not Glorfindel's arrow, but more so, it was no elf's arrow.

As they looked closer at the battle sight they found more evidence of this other being, smaller gashes, always placed in nearly the exact same locations on each orc. This other warrior seemed to only strike at the point of the throat, under the arms, and inner thighs of the orcs. Occasionally, they found thin blade marks through the backs of the orcs, always placed in the lower right corner, right where the orc's heart was most vulnerable.

"They look to be the result of the long knives favored by the Silvans of Greenwood," Berior, one of the older and more experienced elves in the party spoke as he inspected the thin but deep cuts to one orc who had apparently been dispatched by a single blow to his throat. "I traveled there several times before the darkness fell upon the forest and I trained with their guard... but this is no fighting style of their kind."

"I think there was a rather large wolf here as well," another soldier called as he observed the wounds on one of the dead wargs.

"We shall burn the bodies and camp nearby tonight..." Elrond figured that they learned all they could from the battle sight. Although orc and warg bodies littered the ground, there was no fallen elf among them.

That night, pyres burned high as the corpses of orcs and wargs were immolated into ash. The elves despised polluting the land with such foul creatures and did not wish for another poor party of travelers to come upon the sight before the beasts were fully consumed by the worms. Elrond stood at the edge of the camp, watching the red flames licking along the sides of the bodies, rising to the sky.

"My Lord... five days have passed," one of the elves in the party, obviously the one who had drawn the short straw, spoke quietly from behind Elrond's elbow. "If you wish to return to Imaldris before the diplomats arrive... then we must leave within a few hours."

Elrond sighed heavily, gaze searching across the landscape in some vain hope that Glorfindel would suddenly appear from across the horizon. He could easily imagine the golden elf walking forth from between the flames, emerging forth from that which killed him once, that which only very few knew he still feared.

He turned and walked deeper into camp, finding Cuhador sitting near the fire. The weary elf was lightly picking at his dinner of lembas, a still packed bag sitting beside him.

"I will be returning to Imaldris tonight," Elrond spoke as he approached, holding his hand aloft to prevent Cuhador from interrupting. "You will not be accompanying me. You will stay here and continue to search fro Glorfindel. He was surly here and we found no body."

"My Lord, you mustn't return alone."

"I will allow for no more than two warriors to escort me home. Pick your elves and we leave before the moon rises to her peak."

"It shall be done my Lord," Cuhador stood and bowed, fist to his chest as Lord Elrond turned and walked away.

Elrond packed with a heavy heart, knowing that his duties in Imaldris would prevent him from further joining the search.

As he promised, Elrond and two elven warriors rode out from the camp that night. The moon was still climbing in the sky as the small party made haste back to the elven realm. Relations between dwarves and elves had always been strained, but ever since the party of Thorin was assisted by Lord Elrond of Imaldris, the dwarves of Erebor maintained contact with the elven realm. Both Elrond and Glorfindel could sense the darkness stirring in Middle Earth and Elrond greatly feared that soon would come a time when alliances would be needed more than ever.

* * *

"Brother, you are not yet fully healed," Elrohir pleaded as Elladan resolutely shoved a small whetstone into his satchel, shuffling so that it would fit among his clothes and lembas.

"I am healed enough to ride and to fight. That is what matters."

Elrohir snorted at this.

"Perhaps to fight a hare," he reached forward and flicked Elladan's wounded arm, causing his twin to hiss lightly in pain.

"Then I suppose you will finally have to pull your weight in any trouble we find," he snapped back.

"This is a terrible idea. Ada will be furious when he returns."

Despite his protests, the younger brother already had his satchel packed and was dressed in traveling clothes. The twins were identical by appearance in every way, even their garb was the same. Their satchels however were slightly different in their contents. Whilst Elladan's held a whetstone, extra daggers, and spare arrowheads, Elrorhir's bag contained a surplus of healing supplies and extra flint.

The younger brother learned long ago that trouble seemed to follow his family no matter where they wandered. Just as he was contemplating if he had enough blood stopping herbs, his brother finished his packing and stood rather abruptly.

"The window?" Elladan asked?

"We should take mine. We use yours far too often."

"It is because mine has more convent access to the stables."

"No, it is because causing trouble always seems to be your idea."

Elladan smiled and merely hoisted his bag onto his good shoulder and sauntered out the door, leading the way from his chambers to his brother's. Elrohir followed with a long suffering sigh knowing that there was no use in attempting to change his brother's mind. No matter what though, he would follow him. He always would.

In the span of a short few hours, the brothers scaled the wall down the side of Elrohir's window and snuck past any elves wandering through the gardens. They successfully made it to the stables where they saddled their horses without much of a problem. Together, the pair rode off, taking a long and slightly meandering route as they knew that their father would be returning to Imaldris soon and the pair had no desire to bump into him along the path.

As soon as they deemed it safe however, they turned in the direction of which they fled without Glorfindel, hoping to reach the point at which they were separated and then pick up a trail. Glorfindel was their Captain, their mentor, and their friend. They would find him.

They would not lose another loved one to the orcs.

* * *

**Translations**

Naur- Sindarin, fire

Baw- Sindarin, no

Elenya- Quenya name, celestial one

Mëlde- Quenya, friend

Mecin- Quenya, please


	16. Chapter 16

"Going out again?" Glorfindel called as Raven gathered several empty leather bags. He watched her from where he sat, still insatiably curious about her mask.

"Yes," came her ever terse reply.

"You know," he spoke conversationally, trying to ease whatever amount of tension that he could. "These ropes make my arms and legs awfully sore. Don't you trust me?"

"No."

"What have I done to earn your distrust?"

She paused at the doorway, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head. She cut an elegant and mysterious figure, a dark grey cloak with black tendrils of hair peeking out from behind a mask, a shift from beneath the cloak hinted at the powerful wings concealed by fabric, and those bright eyes shining by the fire light. Oh the questions he had about her.

"I have my reasons," she replied before slinking out.

Thus, Glorfindel was left alone, only the girl's strange wolf for company. Although elves are lovers of nature, they have never been known to hold a particular fondness for wolves, or even dogs for that manner. Glorfindel remembered ruefully how fond little Estel was of dogs, how he loved their high energy and boundless enthusiasm. When he was just a child, maybe ten years of age, he brought a stray dog home to Imaldris and caused quite the stir. When Erestor explained to him that elves generally did not keep dogs as pets, the young Dúnedain claimed that such was because elves were so much like cats. Glorfindel still found himself chuckling whenever he recalled the expression that Erestor, the ever sever counselor and Tudor had made upon that declaration.

Glorfindel was however beginning to believe the child's statement as he watched the way Raven's wolf glared at him. The creature seemed to be projecting aggression with its eyes. Never did it seem more suspicious than when Raven neared Glorfindel. The wolf acted as if he would launch himself forward to attack the girl at any moment. Such a protective creature.

Glorfindel was always careful to keep one eye on the wolf whenever the two were alone, but otherwise there was little to do. The fire in the hearth burned low, but enough sunlight filtered through cracks in the ceiling to keep the place fairly well lit. Despite this, Glorfindel feel incredibly claustrophobic. Elves need nature like they need air, and the cave was stifling. He had not seen the stars since his last night camping with his troops. He hadn't dared to ask Raven if he knew what became of them for she was obviously not fond of elves. Knowing that there was likely an elvish army looking for him was probably not the best thing.

As he though of the elves in his guard, he couldn't help but long for his home of Imaldris. The hidden valley had indeed become a home to him and he longed for the comfort of its halls once more. He was indeed nearly ready to go. His side had healed over enough so that movement was no longer a threat to pull his stitches, just the only problem was the moving itself. He was still rather weak and would likely not get very far if he were to try to walk home. Perhaps he could use his last several days of recovery to gain Raven's trust. He knew that Elrond would welcome the strange girl if she would only accompany him to Imaldris. She seemed so lonely with only a wolf for company.

Suddenly, the wolf's head shot up, ears twitching wildly.

Glorfindel strained his own ears and heard very faintly, the sound of a long, high pitched whistle.

Instantly, the wolf was on its feet as it shot out the exit of the cave, not even glancing in Glorfindel's direction. Try as he might, Glodrinfel could not hear what called the wolf's attention for the whistle had come from a good distance away. As time stretched he began to grow agitated. _Was that Raven who called her? Why? Is she in trouble?_

His mind ran through every worse possible scenario on what could be happening to the girl. Despite her being his rescuer, Glorfindel felt a strange sort of protectiveness over her. She seemed so young, so broken. Something that hurt her deeply and he knew was great pain felt like, the kind that refused to pass no matter how hard you tried to forget. Raven reminded him so much of Elenya, the strange being who saved him, that he knew that the two must be related. Everything about her was a mystery to him, but she was surly a dependent of Elenya and thus he was bound to protect her as Elenya did him.

_**Splash.**_

There was a clamoring at the second entrance to the cave, the one where Raven always went to refill the water skins. Glorfindel found his heartbeat racing and his hands itching to grab a sword. Raven and her wolf very rarely entered from that direction, and when they did they dove in and out of the water silently. They never splashed like that.

_**Swish. Splash. Whoosh.**_

He could hear sloshing, like someone unfamiliar with the route thrashing through the small waterfall and down the stream, walking directly towards him. Again, Glorfindel tugged silently at his bonds, cursing the strength of elvish rope and wondering once more why Raven trusted him so little. Spread out at he was, arms, legs, and throat bound, he was utterly helpless.

The movement paused and for a slight, shimmering moment of hope, Glorfindel thought that maybe the water had deterred whoever it was enough, maybe they would leave.

_**Thump. Thump.**_

It seemed that Eru had deemed himself generous enough though and the sound started again, whoever it was was almost upon the cave. The sloshing water turned to hard footsteps and Glorfindel knew that no elvish boot made such noise. Whoever it was was certainly a man, and one of larger statue at that.

A slight rustling, and the curtain hung over the secondary cave entrance opened to reveal a man who Glorfindel instantly knew boded poorly for him.

The man was the sort one sees in a tavern along the roadside, and instantly steers away from. He had wild eyes, rough skin, and an unkempt beard. His bulging muscles were clearly visible through his rusted mail armor and he held aloft a large broadsword of far too high a quality for him to have purchased.

"Well well well," a smile that sent shivers down Glorfindel's back split the man's face in two. "What do we have here?" The man began to approach and Glorfindel set his jaw tightly, still tugging slightly at his bonds. "An elf trussed up in a cave? Ooooh, and such a pretty one at that."

The man lowered his sword so the tip brushed Glorfindel's throat. The elf paused.

"What business have you here?" he laced every bit of practice he had in commanding troops into his voice, authority booming through the cavern. The man simply continued to grin. He was obviously one who had never bent to authority in his life.

"I think a better question is what am I to do with you," as he spoke he crouched down and saw the way Glorfindel's bonds kept him restrained in place. Deeming the elven warrior secured enough, he placed a large, heavy hand on Glorfindel's chest. His fingers splayed out possessively as his hand climbed its way up to stroke along Glorfindel's neck, admiring the knots in the rope. Glorfindel inhaled sharply, a spike of terror running through his body, causing his heart to pump blood rapidly through his veins. He had heard tales of vile men, had even witnessed the aftermath of a young maiden on a roadside years ago. Never had he imagined it could occur to him. "You see, my boys and me only meant to investigate the rather large bonfire we spotted a few nights back and I thought I'd go for a little dip in the stream. And what do I find behind it? A lovely blond elf, all trussed up and prettier than any of the whores I've seen in all my years of roving."

"Please step away from the elf," a voice, Raven's voice suddenly echoed through the cave causing the man to turn sharply and Glorfindel to exhale a sigh of relief. The relief was short lived however as he quickly noticed that she had left her twin blades behind that morning, only taking her bow and a quiver which he now saw sat empty. Her blades however, were situated on the opposite side of the cave, directly behind where the man crouched over Glorfindel.

"Aaahhh, so you must be the owner of this fine specimen. From one tradesman to another, I would like to congratulate you," he performed a large, sweeping bow. "I must say that I admire your skill for so few have ever managed to capture and contain an elf."

"He is not my slave and I will ask you only once, leave this place and do not return." Her voice was impassive and she stood, unarmed and unafraid.

"You've got quite the nerve little lass. I'll admit, I like it. And because I like you, I'll offer you a deal," his smile was predatory and his hand once again strayed to Glorfindel's chest, touching the skin where his loose tunic had come undone. "You give me your elf and these little ropes that seem to hold him, and I won't touch you or your home. Sound fair?"

"No. You've used your one warning."

The man laughed heartily, though it was not a pleasant sound. Once he seized his merriment, his grip on his sword tightened and he advanced slowly on Raven, blade gleaming in the firelight. Without warning, he lunged forward and made to cleave Raven's head from her shoulders. The young maiden however was nimble and easily dodged the blade. He roared in rage and swung again, once again hitting only empty air. At this motion, Glorfindel could clearly see that the man was of the sort used to utilizing brute strength and not much else in combat. He was unused to an opponent so nimble.

For a time the battle continued in such a manner. The man would swing his great sword and Raven would duck just in the nick of time. He was no fool however and thus carefully kept Raven from ever reaching the other side of the room where she could grab her blades.

Then, in a move that shocked both the man and Glorfindel, Raven lept forward, straight at his sword before using her wings to push herself just slightly upwards, grasping his shoulders and launching herself onto his back. Then, Glorfindel saw the slightest shimmer in her hand and a slight hiss from the man before she lept off him. There she stood, chest heaving as she caught her breath, but otherwise she did not move.

"That's the best you've got missy," he spat, a hand wiping along the back of his neck to find the slightest trace of blood. "Whatdya do? Scratch me?" He chuckled at his own joke before his face suddenly stilled. His knees buckled from beneath him and his sword clattered to the floor, falling from his limp grasp. Before Glorfindel could properly process what he was witnessing, the man collapsed face first into a heap on the ground.

"Poison," was all Raven said as she tucked away a small, black dagger. "I should assist Nightshade," was all she said to Glorfindel before pulling her blade from their sheaths and rushing out the way she came in.

Glorfindel remained frozen in mild shock for several more moments, mind processing what he witnessed. Never in all his years had he witnessed a poison so fact acting. Even the venom of Mirkwood's spiders took time to set in.

Soon enough, Raven returned, blades already washed clean in the stream. Her wolf followed shortly behind and Glorfindel couldn't help but noticed that the creature's jaws were stained red. Raven pointed wordlessly as the man's body and the wolf instantly grabbed him by his shoulder as if he were the carcass of a deer, and pulled him from the cave.

"It appears I owe you my life once more," Glorfindel spoke gently. "Although, I would have been happy to assist you in dispatching that man if only I were to be unbound."

She stared at him unblinkingly for several moments, eyes roving up and down his body as if she were appraising him. She then turned and mumbled something about retrieving her arrows before leaving Glorfindel to his thoughts once more.

* * *

Evelyn's heart was hammering in her chest as she stormed her way out of the cave. She went back to the site where the battle had taken place, where a band of bandits and slavers were poking around the charred remains of the orcs that elven soldiers had burned several nights before. As she pulled arrow after arrow from the carcasses of the men, her mind churned.

_This is getting far too out of hand. _

Ever since she chose to intervene and save Glorfindel's life, the elf had brought nothing but trouble. First the pack of orcs which she had to fight off to save him, then a small army of elves searching for him, and now a group of bandits kicking about to investigate the elves. All this was occurring far too close to her home. The elvish army in question was also not too far of still. They gave up on the site where the fight took place and had moved off, wandering further from her home, but still far too close to be considered safe.

At that though, Evelyn realized that she had not seen the elves in a while. She sent Nightshade to return to their home and keep an eye on the elf while she took to the skys. She decided that she would make several light altitude loops so that she had a better chance of spotting where the search party chose to gather. As of the night before, they were traveling further and further from her home. Evelyn dearly hoped that they would stick to that pattern.

In truth, Glorfindel was almost ready to travel. His wound had healed enough so that jostling would not tear the stitching and Evelyn no longer feared fever or his internal organs rupturing once more. However, he was still incredibly weak. It was unlikely that he would be able to walk far, and even more unlikely that he would be able to carry enough supplies to get back to Imaldris. And there was no way she was walking up to the doors of the elvish city.

Evelyn eventually spotted the elves in the distance. Just as she hoped, they were indeed still traveling away from her home. Relatively satisfied, she turned and did one final sweep in the opposite direction, checking just to be sure that they did not split up. Right as she was considering turning back home, she noticed a small campfire ahead, flying silently towards it she spotted two elves sitting quietly by the glowing embers. The elves were of dark hair and perfectly identical. _Elladan and Elrohir,_ a silent voice in her mind supplied, for who else but the sons of Elrond would be wandering the wild in search of Glorfindel? She knew on instinct that it was Glorfindel that they sought out.

She carefully did a few calculation in her mind, noticing that if they were to continue on their path, they would soon hit Evelyn's home. She could not stand the thought of another invasion. Then, an idea stuck Evelyn, if Glorfindel was not ready to travel alone, then why not have him travel with the twins. If only Evelyn could arrange for the two elves to "find him," the Glorfindel could return home and Evelyn could go back to her normal life.

When she arrived back at her cave, she set her plan into motion. Acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary, she made dinner and brewed tea for the more silent than usual Glorfindel. In the tea however she did add the sleeping herb that she used to use on the elf. The dosage was much smaller and thus far harder for him to detect in his exhausted state. The elf downed the tea without a though and very soon was in a deep slumber.

Once Evelyn was certain that he was asleep, she set about packing for the journey. She could not help but notice that one of the elves in the pair was injured. Glorfindel's wounds were still rather severe and travel with him would be slow. With only one fully able bodied elf, the long trek to Imaldris would be tedious and dangerous. Evelyn deemed it necessary that she follow the party in the shadows, at least until they were safely within the lands controlled by the Ring Bearer.

_It wouldn't do to waste so much time in healing him only to have him die on the journey home, _she reasoned silently.

Once she was fully packed, she approached the sleeping elf. Even though she knew that he was deep in slumber, her hands shook as she reached forward for the knots. Taking a deep breath, she undid her greatest form of protection against the elf, the only thing that she _knew_ could keep him from attacking her the second he awoke. She trembled slightly as first his hands, then his legs, then his neck were freed. She watched him sleep for several seconds, knowing that if he were to wake, he would be able to kill her, capture her where she stood.

Shaking her head to dispel the thoughts, she pulled Glorfindel's limp form over Nightshade's back and the pair took off. Walking slowly to avoid jostling Glorfindel's still fragile wounds, the pair made slow progress but eventually, just as the dawn broke, came to spot that Evelyn deemed far enough away from her hope for Glorfindel to be found. She slid the elf off the wolf's back and laid him out gently in the grass. She then kindled a small fire, but added several handfuls of pine and a few fir cones that she had soaked in water. The combined wood released a long and slow column of smoke which would surly capture the attention of the two elves who she knew would not be far away.

She and Nightshade quickly drew back until they were far enough away that they knew they could not be spotted. Evelyn knew that she would be able to easily track the trio in flight, and Nightshade was always good follow. Now she just had to wait.

* * *

"A rather large smoke stack, don't you think brother?" Elladan asked, pointing to the sky on the horizon. Elrohir, who had his eyes glued to the ground as he searched for clues looked up to where his brother pointed.

"Strange indeed... shall we check?"

Elladan nodded and the pair remounted their horses and made for an easy lope in the direction of the smoke. It had been several days since they set forth from Imaldris and they knew that by now their father would be home and furious with his sons for their disobedience. They didn't quite care however as they knew that he would be too caught up in dealing with the latest guests to worry too much about his wayward sons. They approximated about six or seven more days before they had to be worried about a search party being sent for them.

"A camp up ahead," Elladan called, already drawing forth his sword. Elrohir drew his bow and knocked an arrow for one can never be too cautious.

As the pair approached however, all caution was thrown to the wind when they spotted a familiar head of golden hair.

"Glorfindel," Elrohir called in delight, racing forward and leaping from his beloved mare before she even had the chance to stop. Elladan was soon behind him as Elrohir carefully lifted the blond's head, quickly checking for a pulse and exhaling in relief upon finding one.

Elrohir then set about conducting a full examination while Elladan stood and swept his eyes across the surroundings, searching for any sign of the ones who placed their unconscious friend near the fire.

Elrohir's hands were light but firm as she checked the ancient elf from breaks or bends his his bones. Finding none his hands strayed to the elf's stomach were he found the carefully bandaged gash, clean and in the process of healing. From the looks of it however, it was clear that the wound had been deep. A quick prod of his magic indicated to Elrohir that it was originally even deeper than he first imagined, leading him to wonder her Glorfindel even still breathed. His examination then strayed to the warrior's wrists where he noticed the unmistakable marks of ropes. He found the same on his ankles and throat.

"Mellon-nin," he heard his brother speak from behind him. "What happened to you?"

"We'll have to ask him when he awakens. I do not wish to move him now," Elrohir hid his emotions behind the healer's mask he learned from his father.

"Was he a captive?" Elladan continued to prod.

"A well cared for one if so," Elrohir mused, silently admiring the bandaging whilst also sharing his brother's concern. Glorfindel had been gone for far too long for his story to be a normal one. Something very strange had happened to their mentor.


	17. Chapter 17

Three days.

It had been three days of following the trio of elves from the shadows, trailing mostly at night as the creatures moved at a snail's pace. They were making their way back to Imaldris, a route which Evelyn was only now learning as she had never been close to the elven city before.

She and Nightshade were exccedinlgy careful to stay out of range of those keen elven eyes. They hugged the shadows and Evelyn only scouted them from high enough where they would assume her to be merely an average bird. She was growing more anxious by the day as they crept closer and closer to a city filled with elves. She knew that the second they arrived there, they would have the advantage, Glorfindel would be safe, and she could return home.

The nigh air was particularly crisp one particular evening as Evelyn took to the skys, watching the elves sitting at a cheery campfire. A small part of her almost felt guilty for prying, but she was curious as to what was going on. The three elves were obviously close, and Evelyn did remember once reading that the twins were trained by the Gondolian, so it was safe to assume that they shared a strong bond. Evelyn did wonder how much of their time together the elf was sharing. The atmosphere seemed jovial, the twins likely celebrating the safe return of Glorfindel. It hadn't occurred to Evelyn until recently that the elves of Imaldris likely believed Glorfindel to be dead. He was gone for weeks. Such was no small absence.

Off in the distance, she heard a light howl which she returned before making a sharp turn and flying in that direction. She and Nightshade had a bond stronger than she could have ever imagined. Aside from their often silent communications, the two had a series of coded howls. The one Nightshade just release was a call to check on her, asking her to return. In all likelihood it meant that the wolf had caught them dinner which Evelyn was grateful for. She had been spending so much time brooding over the golden elf that she was neglecting basic responsibilities such as hunting.

Upon returning to their small camp, Evelyn found that she was right as she was greeted by the sight of Nightshade standing proudly beside two hare carcasses. Evelyn lightly scratched the creature behind her ears in praise before setting about gutting and roasting the carcass of one, letting Nightshade tear into the other. The pair enjoyed a silent dinner before Evelyn curled up and went to sleep. Nightshade was taking the first watch.

* * *

"Wings?!" Elladan cried incredulously. "A mortal girl with wings?"

"Indeed," Glorfindel smiled brightly. Although the travel was wearisome for him, he had missed the twins dearly and thus was glad to be in their company.

"A mortal with black bird wings... was she like the one from..." Elrohir spoke quietly, the contemplative look in his eyes that Glorfindel recognized so well from Elrond, the same look that he had often seen strike Tuor, centuries ago, when dealing with problems of great complexity.

"Yes... far too like to be coincidence. If only I had seen her face I could tell you for absolute certain, but nevertheless I believe her to be the descendent of Elenya."

"Then we must go back and find her," Elladan cried, leaping to his feet and reaching for his pack. "No hero such as she should live in a cave amongst the wolves."

"Nay," Glorfindel protested before the other Peredhel could. "She distrusts elves greatly, such is why I never saw her face and only know her by the alias "Raven." I know not how she was hurt, but it must have been grave for the level of distrust she shows."

"Is that why she kept you bound?" Elladan asked, just remembering the marks, already faded, that they found on Glorfindel's skin when they first discovered him.

"Yes, no matter what I said, she did not trust me."

"Yet she saved your life?" Elrohir chimed in.

"Twice."

The conversation lapsed into silence as all three nibbled on their lembas and allowed the information to sink in. The night air was alive with crickets singing and owls calling out to once another. In the distance, they could hear the howling of wolves and the gentle trickling of a stream. That stream was feeding in the Brunin and soon enough, they would arrive at its shores and be once more safe within the lands protected by Lord Elrond.

"I know roughly where her home lies..." Glorfindel spoke carefully, mulling over his words. "One day, I will return and find her. Until then though, we must continue home." A mischievous smile then broke across his face as an idea came to him. "Say... do you think Erestor missed me?"

"He's been worried sick," Elladan joined in on the joke with a smile and a short of laughter. "He won't admit it, but I don't think that I've ever seen him lock himself in his study for such a length of time."

"Awwwww, the old fool does care."

"You are a good many years older than him," Elladan jibed back.

"Yes, but he acts so much more his age."

"Perhaps he has only been spending so much time inside his office because he can finally get some work done undisturbed." Elrohir now joined in with a smirk.

"Ahhh, you wound me deeper," Glorfindel brought the back of his hand to his forehead as he swooned backwards in mock disgrace. The twins roared with laughter and for a small period of time, the fire of their cheery little camp seemed to grow brighter.

* * *

"I would say that all is going according to plan," Nienna spoke as they watched the two campsites; one bearing three Eldar laughing in the pure joy of finding one who was once lost, and the other bearing a strange child and wolf curled around teacher, each seeking warmth in the embrace of the other.

"She is stronger than any giver he credit for, her will shall prevail." It was Yavanna this time who spoke, her eyes lingering on the form of Evelyn.

"Her spirit may be strong, but where does her heart lie?" Varda questioned. Her eyes held more suspicion than the other two as she watched the sleeping forms. This quest was largely due to her influences, and she knew exactly how much was at stake.

Middle Earth was depending on the choices of one child, lost, alone, abandoned, and bitter. Although she seemed fond of the elf of Gondolin, Varda feared that her past traumas were too much. Where they, the Valar, too harsh in testing her? Should they have interviewed sooner? There were so many rules regarding how they were and were not allowed to interfere. She had already bent so many in getting these figures to this point, but there was so much more for them to do. Would they be ready?

"She has come this far," Yananna spoke solemnly. "We must trust her to continue."

"To whatever end," was all that Varda spoke in reply before turning from the scene. So much was stirring in Middle Earth. A long standing peace was breaking.


	18. Chapter 18

The elves were nearing Imaldris. On Evelyn's last flight, she spotted the city in the distance. It was as beautiful as she always imagined it; shining stone crated elegant structures rising atop waterfalls which cascaded down to streams diverging towards the river. It was like a hidden jewel thrust agains the valley, a private and serene home for the elves that lived there.

Evelyn's stomach turned into a knot of fear, and she turned back.

That night was a restless one, she sat, curled up into Nightshade's flank as she debated the merits of continuing. The night air was warm, but she clung to the wolf as if she needed the creature's body heat to survive.

"Tomorrow they cross the river... they'll be safe... we should go home."

The wolf snorted lightly in reply. Evelyn swore the she was mocking her.

"What? You don't believe me? Tomorrow we make for home."

Nightshade merely closed her eyes, released a light huff of annoyance. The wolf knew that Evelyn was lying to herself. She waited patiently for the girl to continue.

"I mean... at the same time... why am I in such a rush? Things have been getting pretty dicey around there and we're probably going to have to move soon anyway... and that wound was pretty deep. Even with his elvish healing he's not 100 percent yet. I'm sure Elrond is great and all, but it's not like elves know what the heck trauma surgery is..."

Nightshade exhaled deeply, knowing exactly what was to come. She wasn't going back to her favorite hunting grounds anytime soon.

"Maybe we should hang around... just for a little while. After how much we've done, it would be a shame for him to die now."

Nightshade leaned back, giving Evelyn better access to the crook of her elbow where she snuggled deeper. They were close enough to the boarders of Imaldris that they could feel a slight pulse of power in the air, the force of Lord Elrond's ring that held back dark creatures, keeping the city safe from orcs and all manner of dark things. Part of Evelyn was a bit surprised that it felt so comforting to her. She halfway expected to be repelled by it. She was... after all, a dark creature. Right?

* * *

Glorfindel's return to Imaldris was surprisingly without fanfare. He and the twins neared the city in the late evening and loathed the idea of a crowd. All three of them had a lot of explaining to do to Lord Elrond, and they preferred to face his scowls in private. This being so, they dismounted and walked through a back entrance, dropping off their horses to a rather startled stable hand and making their way slowly through the main house. When they arrived at Lord Elrond's study, the hearth was already lit and tea for four was set up.

Of course he saw them arriving.

"Glorfindel," Elrond opened the door with a broad smile. "Welcome home."

He embraced his old friend, grey eyes gleaming with delight. It had only been a few hours since he senses his sons and Captain crossing the Brunin, but he had that time to ease his heart in knowing that Glorfindel was alive. Seeing him standing and walking on his own was honestly more than he expected. After running a quick and appraising eye over Glorfindel to find that there was nothing urgently ill about him, Elrond turned his focus on his two sons.

"Elladan," he pointed an accusatory finger at the older brother. "What could have possibly possessed you to climb from your window in the middle of the night, with an arrow wound in your sword arm, to go rushing into the wild without telling a soul."

"Ada-" Elrohir tried to come to his brother's defense, but was stopped by Elrond then turning his wrath on him, pointing another finger.

"And you," Elrohir and Elladan both gulped slightly. It was rare for them to see their father so angry and uncomposed. "Going along with your brother's half mad plan and risking both of your lives. Glorfindel was already lost. Have you any idea how much you worried me?"

At that accusation, both of the twins hung their heads in shame. In truth, they knew that their father would be mad at them leaving without telling him, but they always did it. They hadn't however, factored in the fact that with Glorfindel missing as well, their father would be even more worried. Glorfindel really was an anchor for their father, the reborn elf was always the most confident and sure that no matter what wildness possessed the twins in a moment, that they would come to their senses and survive long enough to haul themselves back to the Healing Wing of Imaldris. Without Glorfindel, their father was left with Erestor who was an even greater worrier than himself.

"If I may my Lord," Glorfindel interrupted with a light cough. "I do believe that they climbed through Elrohir's window this time." He spoke with a mischievous smile and was met with Elrond's stern glare. Instead of shirking back however, Glorfindel maintained his gaze and his grin, until Elrond finally relented and smiled.

"Go," he ordered his sons. "Bath and rest. We shall discuss this tomorrow."

The twins bowed to their father and fled to their chambers before he would change his mind. They both planned on sleeping in as long as possible to avoid their father.

* * *

"Strange," Elrond hummed lightly, his back to Glorfindel as he gazed out the window. Glorfindel seemed to have gained a second surge of energy upon returning home, and despite his injury, felt far too invigorated to sleep. Instead, he had spent the last few hours recounting his experience from his desperate chase to his awakening in the care of Elladan and Elrohir. "She did not say anything when she drugged you and dropped you off."

"Not a word."

"And she was like the one from Gondolin?"

"Exactly like her."

"But you never saw her face?"

"Only her eyes..."

"Yes, you mentioned them several times."

"They were so strange... I swear... by Eru they glowed."

Elrond turned his head sharply, gaze intensifying as he looked at Glorfinded.

"Do you mean like..."

"Brighter."

Elrond made a hmmmm sound as he took a seat in the chair next to Glorfindel. He slowly sipped his tea, and after a stern glare, Glorfindel did as well. Elrond's mind was racing. He had not had a moment of peace since Glorfindel first disappeared, and now he was returned and bearing yet more questions.

His mind was in turmoil.

Foresight is a gift that is both blessing and cure, for Elrond he was finding it as a curse. He kept seeing snatches of hair, as black as ebony, wings like a great crow, and glowing brown eyes. This figure was flitting in and out of his visions, it had been for the past few years, thought its appearances in his mind had grown more and more frequent. Elrond could no longer deny that this figure was the mysterious "Raven" who rescued Glorfindel.

There was however, a problem. This Raven seemed to always appear in vision plagued with chaos and bloodshed. He saw her standing over Glorfindel's body, blood slashed across his stomach as a gaping wound that not even elvish magic could cure. But, as oft the sase with visions brought on by foresight, not all is as it appears. She saved Glorfindel, she was not his slayer.

As for the rest of his visions, who could tell. Elrond got glimpses of her flashing through battle scenes of pure carnage, broken bodies of men and elves alike scattered across the hillside. He saw her flying past a village filled with flames, children of men crying in anguish. And perhaps most troubling, he had seen her in Imaldris as orcs and wargs overran the peaceful halls, elves of his own household fleeing in fear. And, always beside her, was a black shadow, a flash of fur the color of the night, claws and teeth, yellow eyes and snarling jowls.

Whoever she was, she brought chaos and destruction.

Whoever she was, saved his friend.

"I think it best that we keep her part in this story quiet for now. If she does not want to be found, then I am rather inclined to believe that she would not appreciate a city of elves knowing her," Elrond spoke at last.

"I have to agree..." Glorfindel hesitated, but continued. "But, when I am well enough, I will find her."

"That is to be discussed another day," Elrond spoke firmly standing and holding out his arm to guide Glorfindel to the Healing Wing.

He saw the way that the elder elf groaned and could not help but chuckle. His friend thought that he had forgotten the description of an almost certainly fatal wound. Elrond would certainly not let such a thing escape his attentions. This being so, he made sure to conduct a thorough examination of Glorfindel's side, taking careful note of how neat and precise the stitchings were.

He felt along the length of the wound, pulsing healing magic through it as he felt how the organs beneath were wounded. Such a thing was meant to be fatal, yet somehow by some miracle, Glorfindel's savior managed to stitch him in such a way that his organs remained intact. Something she did helped him heal in a way that should have been impossible.

Once Elrond forced Glorfindel to choke down a foul tasting painkiller, he send the wounded elf off to bed and informed him that they would be announcing his return at breakfast the next morning, but he and his sons would inform Imaldris that Glorfindel was wounded and thus would not be seeing visitors for a few days. Elrond himself personally guided Glorfindel to his chambers inorder to ensure that the elf would not wander off or find something to overexert himself with. Like his twin sons, Elrond knew that Glorfindel had a penchant for getting into trouble.

* * *

_4 weeks later_

Finally, Glorfindel was given a clean bill of health and allowed back out on patrols. Elrond requested that he stay close to the boarders and Glorfindel reluctantly complied. Although he longed to go out in search of Raven, he still felt slightly guilty for the worry that his absence caused Elrond. Plus, if he left Imaldris on guard duties, then that would mean that he would be traveling with a company of warriors. Considering that Raven refused to unbind his hands when he was too weak to even lift his own arms, he didn't imagine that she would take kindly to a troop of elvish soldiers.

On one particular day, Glorfindel was riding Asfaloth on the open plains near Imaldris when something caught his eye. Luckily, he had a keener gaze than most of his brethren, and it was only this superiority that allowed him to perceive the slightest hint of something in a small briar. He pulled Asfaloth into a quick turn and cantered back, hopping from his steed's back to investigate.

There, among the thorns of a bush bearing bright red berries, was a single feather. He carefully reached into the shrub and pulled it out, admiring the length and silken quality. He held it up to the light and marvled at how one side seemed to absorb all light with the darkest of black, while the other side held a slight sheen, reflecting colors to be more midnight-blue than black. He turned it gently in his hand, caressing it with great care. Instantly, Glorfindel knew who it was from. No bird save the Great Eagles had feathers of that size, but no eagle had colors such as those.

It was Raven.

The feather was fresh, newly dropped within the last day or two. This meant that she was near.

_She's hanging around Imaldris. She's curious._

The thoughts floated through Glorfindel's head and he smiled. Hopping back astride Asfaloth, he made haste back to Imaldris where he informed the only other elves of her existence: Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, and Erestor. Upon his arrival back at Imaldris, he informed them of his find and showed them the large feather. Erestor made a remark about how beautiful of a quill such a feather would make, but Glorfindel sent him a withering glare that could have made the Peredhel proud.

Their little impromptu meeting did however prove fruitful in a pact between the five of them that they would keep an eye out for Raven. They would not openly search for her, as such a thing was likely to spook the rather apprehensive girl. However, they would keep watch. They would search for stray feathers, glimpses of shadows moving too fleetly at night. The twins spent much of their time patrolling the boarders of Imaldris and thus would be capable of easily watching for signs of a winged guest.

Over the next few weeks, their efforts did indeed prove fruitful. They never found another perfect feather in such a manner, but they did find more sighns: broken feathers caught in trees, flashes of black in the night, birds flocking with a companion who was slightly too large, abandoned camps left in a hurry, and most notably, corpses of orcs near the far boarders- killed with the same precise arrow wounds and slashes as the ones at Glorfindel's battlefield.

It had to be Her. For some reason unknown to the five, Raven was indeed lingering near Imaldris. She refused to show herself, but as time passed, evidence of her was becoming more and more obvious. There were little tiny breadcrumbs left everywhere, in all directions. She was not sticking to one singular place, but instead rotating around the area in an unpredictable elliptical, never lingering in one spot for long. Eventually, after a longer period of time than Glorfindel cared to admit, they noticed that her patterns of movement roughly followed Glorfindel's. When the captain was on patrol, she would be following them from a distance. When he was in Imaldris however, she seemed to slip away to the far boarders where she killed orgs and the occasional deer (as evidence in the pile of field dressing that they found).

All this time, she was a mystery.

At one point, Elladan grew frustrated with their endless chase. He found it too much like they were chasing a ghost who did not wish to be found. And so, one night when he happened to be on the same patrol as Glorfindel, she slipped away from camp and walked until he found a relatively dense patch of trees. There, he dropped a satchel filled with spare clothes, water skins, preserved jams, and bandaging. He looked up to the trees and called out,

"Hello, I am Elladan, son of Lord Elrond of Imaldris. You may remember me when you deposited my Captain and friend in a place where I am certain you knew my brother and I would find him. I would like to thank you for caring for him. I know you're up there somewhere, keeping an eye on him, but I wanted to offer you a gift of gratitude and to inform you that on my word, you are welcome to come to Imaldris. Our doors are always open and you need not to suffer in the cold, for winter soon approaches. I bid you good eve, Lady Raven."

When he returned and informed Glorfindel of what he did, the elder was furious. Even Elrohir wicked him upside the head for his stupidity. They had spent so long observing Raven's movements with care, and now Elladan walked in and blundered his way right into yelling at her in her hiding. He could have ruined it all.

Just as they feared, after Elladan's little stunt, they stopped finding signs of Raven. Broken feathers no longer popped up, campsites all were old and from times past. Even the boarders seemed a bit more treacherous as they were finding more live orcs than dead ones. Glorfindel's mood turned sour. He became anxious, pacing the halls of Imaldris though the day and night. His duties in training the guard were taken over by his lieutenants after he vented his frustrations on a practice dummy and was thus banned from trainings by Erestor. He rode Asfaloth for pleasure less and instead took to sweeping searches of Imaldris' grounds. But it was no use, there was not a sign of Raven about. Glorfindel's short temper soon resulted in the residents of Imaldris avoiding him, but he did not notice as he was too consumed in his desire to leave, to fo out and find Raven.

And, perhaps it was because his mind was wandering elsewhere, perhaps it was because Imaldris no longer had her secret boarder guard, or perhaps it was because it was just inevitable to occur, but eventually, Glorfindel's wish for _anything_ to happen did indeed come true.


	19. Chapter 19

"Orcs," Evelyn whispered to herself. She took to the air and flew high in the air, making a sharp turn that would bring her back to the tiny camp where she and Nightshade were sleeping.

They still had not left the lands surrounding Imaldris. After the incident where the elf, Elladan, attempted to speak to her, she had been terrified. She thought that she was being careful, that she and Nightshade were being discreet... _but I suppose the orc bodies were giving us away._

So, she did the only thing that she could, she stopped killing them. Nightshade had a keen sense of smell and thus was always quick to determine the location of the orcs. This had become a necessary measure as orcs were trickling in, crossing the Brunin and making towards Imaldris. The parties were small, two to three orcs each time and Evelyn was nearly certain that they were scouts. She had been doing her best to kill them off and prevent them from returning to their hoard, but she had to stop after she was made by Elladan.

Now the orcs were back, and there were a lot of them.

From a distance, she watched as the horde of orcs marched across the Brunin and straight towards the city. There was nothing that she could do. She turned to Nightshade and the wolf gazed back at her with those patient eyes... waiting. In truth, they should have returned home weeks ago. Glorfindel was fully recovered and there was no point in them sticking around. Now, the elves were looking for her. Now, orcs were invading.

"It's not our fight," she whispered to Nightshade, stroking the wolf's coarse outer coat. The nights were going cold and her companion was growing in a thick layer to battle with the snow which would inevitably fall. "They would not do the same for us."

Despite her words however, there was a tinge of worry in Evelyn's heart. She knew that Glorfindel was out on patrol, and if they had kept to schedule, he should be directly in the path of the orcs. Now, the orcs could kill the elves for all Evelyn cared, they weren't her responsibility. But, a tiny part of her wanted to check on Glorfindel, to make sure that the stupid blond elf would make it out alive. _I did put a lot of effort into him... it would be a waste. _She used the same excuse each time, but it was enough for her to climb atop Nightshade's back as the wolf ran silently in the same direction as the orcs.

They traveled at an easy lope, a pace at which they would still maintain a modicum of silence and secrecy. They didn't want to participate, they didn't want to fight. They just waned to watch.

Soon, they could hear the sounds of battle ahead. The cries of the elves were rapid and tense for the orcs had the advantage of a moonless night and the element of surprise. The sounds of swords clanging, flesh tearing, and soldiers screaming was unmistakable. Evelyn pushed Nightshade to hide beneath a layer of brambles whilst she took to a nearby tree, climbing silently so that she could watch the chaos from above.

The fires that the elves had lit to cook their food were blazing brightly and several casks of oil appeared to have spilt near them, creating massive blazes that were perilous to battle amidst. Yet battle they did. Orcs and creatures which Evelyn knew to be Uruk-hai used clubs and crude blades to strike down upon the elves. The elves, though slight, were strong and swift. Even in the chaos they moved with no small amount of grace, flitting through the battle, striking back with swords, spears, and bows.

As the battle raged, firelight reflected the gleaming metal of their blades and for a moment, Evelyn's heart stopped as a memory of steel bars and shining blades surfaced. She gasped grasping her chest and sucking in rapid breaths until she could force herself to calm. It would do no good to have a flashback now, the elves were not fighting her. In fact, they appeared to be losing the fight.

All around the battle field, more elves fell beneath the sheer numbers of orcs. None of their archers had been able to break away from the main fight and thus they were forced to wind knives and swords against the orcs. Some of the Uruk-hai however were clever. They hung back at the rear of the battle and fired off arrow after arrow into the fray. There was little that the elves could do to dodge these missiles while attempting to avoid blows with blades.

In the center of the battle was Glorfindel, the elf, fully healed was magnificent and terrifying to behold. He carried no shield and instead bore a broadsword with two hands. He made massive arching swings at the orcs, severing limbs and heads as he went. His gashes were crude but effecting, a massive slice across the chest of one Uruk-hai cut through the beast's chainmail and tore his heart. The turned and swung at a beast creeping up at him from behind, golden hair loose and bound only by his delicate side braids, he seemed to glow in the fire light. Evelyn did not know if she admired or feared the gleam of anger in his eyes. He knew the situation, she could see it. He saw how they had no archers, how the enemy had them surrounded and pinned down. He thought that he was to die.

From the corner of her eye, Evelyn noticed an Uruk-hai at the edge of the battle field. He was knocking an arrow to his bow and then drew back, leveling his gaze at the back of Glordindel, locked in battle with two more orcs. She saw the way the beast smirked as he drew his bowstring further back.

With thinking, Evelyn pulled her own bow and let loose and arrow straight between the eyes of the beast. The arrow he had drawn flesh uselessly sideways, hitting nothing as the orc collapsed. Then, still not really thinking, Evelyn began to release volley after volley of arrows, watching as the Uruk-hais bearing bows slowly collapsed, one by one they fell to her arrows until none were left.

At one point, she was forced to shoot an arrow past Glorifndel's head in order to kill another beast aiming an arrow at the elf. Glorfindel however, heard the wind whizzing past his ear and he turned to loop upwards, into the trees where Evelyn hid. He cocked his head to the side in suspicion, but was quickly drawn back into the fray of the fight. Evelyn released the breath that she had been holding in.

Without the aide of the archers, the orcs were slowly loosing. The elves were strong fighters and they began to turn the tide of the battle, skill beating strength. Evelyn deemed that the elves would be capable of sorting things out themselves, that Glorfindel would survive eventually. She turned to Nightshade, ready to signal that it was time for them to leave, when suddenly Nightshade took off.

"Shade," she cried in alarm as the wolf sprinted straight towards an orc who was sneaking upon Glorfindel from behind. The blond elf was so engrossed in his battle with a massive Uruk-hai who was likely the leader of the hoard that he did not notice the figure of the crooked orc bearing a long dagger.

Nightshade cleared the battlefield in less than a second and with one might leap, she fell upon the orc and ripped out its throat from behind. Glorfindel turned in alarm, but was brought back to the fight by the Uruk-hai that he could not seem to hit no matter how he swung.

Nightshade then whirled around and jumped into the fray, tearing out throats and gouging deep scars into the beasts. The elves avoided the wolf, skirting back in fear but not daring to strike against the beast that was aiding them. Evelyn released an audible sigh as she realized that her companion had developed feelings for the elf. She then was forced to fix her mask and jump into the fight herself for she would not abandon her companion.

Soaring into the middle of the battle, she fought alongside Nightshade, her surgical strikes taking out each orc and Uruk-hai with precision. Not a single moment she made was wasted. Each blow served to either block, cripple, or kill. There were no careless swings, no reckless lunges. Only blood and death with each flick of her wrists.

Nightshade too battled, growls of anger and bloodlust were uttered from deep within the wolf's chest. She moved like a blur go night, like a shadow amongst the flames and beneath the darkness of the moonless sky. She was terrifying.

At one point, Evelyn was using one of her massive wings to knock back an injure orc, but another beast, and Uruk-hai slashed his blade down upon the open appendage. Evelyn cried out in pain, bringing her wing tight against her body and slashing the throat of the Uruk-hai. Her cry did however draw the attention of Nightshade who paused in her fighting long enough to locate Evelyn. That slight pause was all the distraction that was needed for another orc to catch the tip of his blade on Nighshade's shoulder. The wolf yipped in pain but was quick to push her way through the fray until she was at Evelyn's side.

The girl had received another wound to her side and was barely able to hold the blade in her left arm. Thus, she was quick to lean heavily upon Nightshade's back as the pair battles their way to the edge of the fighting. They had done more than enough, the tide of the battle had clearly turned and the orcs were a few deaths away from retreating. Just as they approached the very edge of the fighting, just when they thought that they would make a clean escape, a club was swung from seemingly nowhere, knocking Evelyn to the ground.

The last image she saw as her vision faded to black was Nightshade leaping upon an orc, ripping it to shreds as a head of blond hair and a pair of crystal blue eyes turned to her yelling out something that she could not understand as the haze of unconsciousness swept across her.

* * *

"Raven!" Glorfindel cried out as he watched the slim figure collapse.

He fought his way over towards her, slaughtering everything that stood in his path. As he neared however, he was distracted by another orc, then another of those massive orcs which were among the hoard. Eventually, he was forced to trust that Raven's wolf was keeping her safe as he continued to battle the massive hoard.

It had been a regular patrol, a perfectly standard patrol of the outer boarders. Glorfindel had not bothered to change the rotations and thus, he was on the same patrol as Elladan and Elrohir. Usually Glorfindel was delighted to be on patrol with the twins. However, he was still furious with Elladan for there had been no sign of Raven after his little stunt. Part of him feared that the mysterious maid was gone and the she would never be found again. She did always seem exceedingly good at hiding.

His admittedly irritable mood and restlessness however did find an outlet as that night, from nowhere, a hoard of orcs attacked. How Lord Elrond did not sense them, how the elves did not hear them approach, Glorfindel knew not. Yet they came from nowhere, the advantage of night on their side as they reigned down upon the camp.

Among them were orcs who were different, orcs who were larger and perhaps most dangerously- smarter. The larger orcs had the camps surrounded and were raining arrows down upon the elves. Without a chance for their archers to make for the trees, pinned down on all sides, the battle seemed hopeless.

Just as Glorfindel was certain that this was the day for him to fall, he watched as orc after orc fell, dying upon a black fletched arrow. He searched the surroundings wildly and noticed a shaking in a nearby tree, and in that instant he knew that Raven had stuck around. She was watching him, like some sort of winged guardian she was watching from afar and popping in as she was needed.

Glorfindel found himself smiling. Surly victory would be theres.

When the orcs finally did retreat, several of the fleeter archers lept atop their horses and gave chase, firing off their arrows as they went. Glorfindel knew not to worry for them as they would return once they were certain that the orcs were far beyond the boarders of Imaldris. He did a quick visual sweeping over the field, noting the surprising lack of dead, and condign up the injured.

Of their party of two score, around fifteen seemed to have severe injuries, while another thirty had minor ones that could be fixed with a quick binding and an easy ride back to Imaldris. What alarmed GLorfindel however, was the form of their rescuer.

Off to the side, he could seen Linnoril, one of their healers, attempting to approach the fallen girl. She had bandages and herbs out, her hands held up in a gesture of peace, but it was no use. The girls wolf stood above her, growling at any who approached, baring her teeth in a clear threat. The wolf's jaws still dripped black off blood from her glittering teeth, and no one wished to test the wolf's protective streak.

"_Who is she?_" Linnoril asked.

"_She is someone very important, and very brave,_" Glorfindel replied. Raven's cloak had been ripped off at sometime during the fight to reveal her massive wings, one of which was leaking blood at an alarming rate. Although the girl's mask remained, it was unmistakably Glorfindel's savior who was laid out before them.

"_Her wounds are severe. I must stop the bleeding and we must take her to Lord Elrond,_" Linnoril accepted Glorfindel's non-answer to her question and instead was focused on what she was trained in, treating her patient.

Glorfindel then attempted to approach, moving slowly and making a point to drop his sword before he neared, he watched as the wolf tensed, but did growl or bite. He gently held out his hand for the wolf to sniff, which she did. Then, he slowly moved to a crouch and attempted to reach a hand out to Raven's injured wing. As he reach for raven however, the wolf's hackled rose and she snapped sharply at Glorfindel's hand, forcing the elf to leap backwards.

"_If we do not treat her soon then she will bleed out,_" at Linnoril's words, another elf slowly drew his bow, leveling the arrow at the wolf.

"_Stop!_" Glorfindel cried, causing the soldier to lower his bow. "_The wolf if precious to her. If we slay it... I do not wish to know how she would react._"

An idea then struck Glorfindel. She requested Linnoril to fetch her strongest sleeping draughts and mix them with whatever was left of the venison soup that they had the previous night for dinner. Once complete, Glorfindel slowly approached the wolf with the bowl of drugged soup and placed it within easy range. The wolf took a few sniffs, but Glorfindel was careful to mask the scent of the herbs with pepper and as single wolfsbane flower. That one flower was not enough to poison the wolf, but just enough to mask anything else in the soup. Eventually, the wolf accepted Glorfindel's offering and lapped up the soup with ease.

The elves watching held their breath as the wolf slowly began to show signs of sleeping. It began to sway, blinked rapidly, and eventually, collapsed into a heap atop Raven. The elves rushed in then, Elladan and Elrohir, who had watched the entire affair in silence, quickly moved to bind the muzzle and limbs of the wolf. Elrohir treated the wound on the creature's shoulder before they loaded it onto the back of one of their horses. Meanwhile, Linnoril was quick to begin attempting to staunch the blood flowing forth from Raven's wounds.

Glorindel remains frozen in place for several moments, almost not believing what was occurring.

"_We must get her and other back to Imaldris... quickly!_" Linnoril cried.

Glorfindel nodded in response and the company took off. When they reached the gates, Elrond must have already known that there would be trouble for he had a party of healers waiting at the the gates. Those whose injuries were most severe were quickly ushered up to the Healing Halls whilst Elrond ordered for the wolf to be locked in one of the lower store rooms with food and water.

As the elves around him rushed to obey, Glorfindel had only one concern I him mind- Raven.

"_Come, we must stop the bleeding and mend the break in her wing,_" Elrond ordered calmly, beckoning Glorifndel to follow him through Imaldris to the Healing Halls.

"_Elrond, it is her,_" Glorifndel gasped as he laid the girl down on the bed.

Elrond seemed to ignore this revelation in favor of simply treating her. He bustled around the bed, using poultices and powders to stop blood flow and bind her wounds. The room that Elrond had guided the pair to was set towards the interior of the Healing Halls. It bore no window for Glorfindel beloved the girl to be mortal, and mortal feel the cold through the open windows of Imaldris. The circular room was a private place on the quiet end of the halls, and Elrond truly wished for no distractions as he set about tending the creature's wounds.

As he stripped off layers of clothing, Glorfindel noticed how many old scars she had. She was certainly mortal for no mortal scars in such a way, but she seemed far too young for so many injuries. As Elrond peeled apart her sleeve to access the wound on the girl's arm, Glorfindel noticed old scars circling her wrists- manacle marks. These were however unlike the light markings that faded quickly from Glorifndel upon his release. No, these were deep-set scars, the result of ill fitting metal manacles digging into flesh repeatedly, opening up old wounds as they were never taken off. Glorfindel even heard Elrond take in a sharp breath at this realization.

"_I have to know,_" Glorfindel whispered as he approached Raven, slowly reaching towards her face and the mask that had remained in place. With gentle hands, the elf peeled back the mask and found himself inhaling in shock.

_It's her! It's really her?!_

"_My friend,_" Elrond asked in concern. He had just finished tying the last bandage and was now focused on his friend who was close to hyperventilating where he stood, plastered against the wall.

"Elenya," was all he said in response. Elrond paused in his ministrations to gaze down upon the little figure on the bed in shock.

Glorfindel's hand wandered down to trace a long scar across her calf, his fingers lingering on the clear manacle marks on her ankles and then her wrists.

"Oh my friend... what has happened to you?"


	20. Chapter 20

Evelyn woke slowly, eyes fluttering as she attempted to force them to open.

She was in pain.

Shifting her body slightly, Evelyn took stock of her injuries. Her left upper arm was wrapped tightly, a searing pain at her attempt to move it informed her of a rather large gash. Her side ached and she vaguely recalled a blade slicing through her thin leather vest in the middle of the battle. Working her way downward, she found her right ankle was bound to something hard- a splint?

Most worrying however, her left wing was not responding to her. One wing was perfectly fine, fluttering about as she attempted to move, but the other only tugged weakly. The alarm of this situation full woke the rest of her senses and Evelyn's eyes snapped open.

It was dark.

Looking around, Evelyn spotted an oil lamp on the little table next to her, a roaring fire in the hearth, and a little chair beside it on the opposite side of the room. She looked down and found herself laying upon a bed with white sheets- she was wearing a different shirt. Looking towards her feet, she found that she was still dressed in the same leggings as earlier, but her shoes were gone and her ankle was splinted. Her weapons were nowhere to be seen.

As Evelyn felt along her body with her right hand she found the places that she noted earlier as injured. When she came to her wings however, she found one of her wings bound to her body, long strips of white cloth held the wing close to her back and prevented her from moving it. Just as she was reaching up to tug away the bindings, she noticed where she was, the full memories of the fight coming back to her.

_Elves... she was found by elves for orcs do not take prisoners._

Her mind surged to a panic as she saw where she was: a dark, stone room. The door across from her was closed. Her wing was bound and her foot was in a splint. She could not walk or run. She was trapped.

Panic made her breathing increase as she found that Nightshade was nowhere nearby, she was separated from her one companion. She was alone, trapped among the elves in yet another cell.

"I can't," she brought a hand to her face and stared in shock as she drew it back, wet with tears. "Not again... I can't-"

Images of cold stone, of manacles and the laughter of guards who refused to speak to her. The cold gaze of an arrogant King, condemning her to rot in loneliness and isolation for the sole crime of not knowing and knowing too much. All she ever wanted to do was help the elves, and every time it exploded in her face, every time she suffered for it.

She tried to warn Thranduil of dangers approaching and he threw her in his dungeon.

She tried to save Glorfindel's life and found her home raided by orcs and men alike.

She tried to stop the orc scouts from reporting on Imaldris and she was tracked down.

Now, she tried to save the patrol and she was once again captures, locked up, imprisoned.

As her breathing increased, Evelyn noticed almost absentmindedly that she was hyperventilating, but she didn't care. She had to get out.

Pulling up every ounce of strength within herself, she pushed upwards, sitting up in bed. She could feel the stitchings in her side straining and her ankle screamed in pain, but she ignored it.

_I have to get out, I have to get out-_

_FInd Nightshade,_

_Escape,_

_Kill anyone who gets in the way._

The words were repeated over and over again in her head, like a mantra she repeated them as she gritted through the pain, forcing herself to sit up. She reached for the oil lamp beside her bed and threw it at the hearth, instantly shattering it and thus clearing the bedside table. She then leaned over and lifted said end-table above her head, a cry of pain escaping her lips as she crashed it down agains the bed frame, breaking off a leg.

Taking the wooden leg, she examined how one end was splintered to create a jagged edge which she ran her fingers along carefully- it was sharp. They may have taken her weapons, but Evelyn figured that this wooden stake would have to do. She had been merciful the last time she escaped for she did not kill a single elf. This time, she would not make the same mistake. She would do what was necessary.

Just as she was about to attempt to climb out of bed, the sound of a key clicking echoed through the little room and the door opened. A tall, broad shouldered elf with dark brown hair walked in. It took him less than a second to sweep his eyes across the room, to see the broken lamp in the fireplace, the shattered table, and Evelyn bearing the broken table-leg like a club, ready to strike from her bed. The pair stared at each other, a challenge in Evelyn's fierce gaze and an unreadable expression in the other.

"I think we've finally gotten him to lay down for-"

"Erestor, fetch Glorfindel," the elf standing in the doorway spoke crisply to the faceless voice behind.

"My Lord-"

"Now," was all he said as he took a step inside. Evelyn could hear a slight shuffling from behind the elf as the other scurried away rather quickly. Evelyn still did not speak, she was poised and ready to strike, taunt and wary.

"Hello Lady Raven," he spoke gently slowly approaching until Evelyn lifted her chair leg as a clear threat. "I am a friend of Glorfindel... I will not harm you."

"I don't care who the fuck you are," she hissed, pushing herself as upright as she could manage. "Where's Nightshade? If you killed her then I swear by all your petty Valar that I will kill every last elf in this house," she hissed her words, forcing herself to keep the fear out of her tone. Nightshade was her last and only friend, the loyal companion who stuck with her always. She couldn't stand the thought of losing her.

"Nightshade? I assume that is your wolf's name," he spoke calmly, seeming to ignore her threat. If he thought her incapable of acting on it then he clearly didn't know Evelyn well. "She is safe. We had to tranquilize her to treat the both of you as she was very protective of you once you fell, but she is locked in a cellar with a large supply of fresh meat and water. A minor gash in her shoulder was bandaged by myself and I can assure you that she is otherwise perfectly healthy."

"If she's in a cellar than am I in your dungeon?"

"Why ever would you think such things? You are no prisoner. This is a private room in the Healing Halls of Imaldris," he spoke gently, over enunciating each word as one might for a child.

"Then I am free to leave?" Evelyn challenged.

"You are in no condition to be walking about right now. Your ankle was practically shattered and I had to split it. The stitchings on your side are about to come undone with all your movements, and the gash on your arm was rather severe. Once you are healed however, you are free to stay or leave Imaldris as you choose."

"Ha," she laughed a dark and bitter chuckle. "What a lovely way to tell me that you're keeping me here, locked in your dungeon. I know your kind. I know you have no intention of unlocking that door."

"Please-" Elrond began but was interrupted by the door slamming open to the wild figure of Glorfindel.

The blond elf was quickly followed by another dark haired elf, though less broad in shoulder than the first. The second elf merely shut the door quietly behind them and stood in front of it, hands folded gently in front of his body as he waited patiently, observing.

Glorfindel was not so patient and surged forward, only to be stopped by Evelyn's rather pointed threat with her improvised wooden stake. She glared at the elf and could not help but bring one hand to brush across her face. Of course- her mask was gone.

"Raven-" he hesitated, lowering himself to a crouch so that he could look her in the eyes without hovering about her as she still was confined to her bed. "It is me, Glorfindel. I would say that this was the third time you saved me, but perhaps it is the fourth."

"Let me out of here," she hissed. She didn't care that she had healed him, saved him before. He was an elf, she was locked in a stone room. She was a prisoner, he was a jailor.

"Please, you are injured-" as he reached a hand towards her, Evelyn made a wild swing with her stake that clearly missed, but it did force the elf to jump backwards. He continued speaking nonetheless."This is Lord Elrond..." he tried, gesturing to the first elf that Evelyn saw upon waking. "He is a healer, he tended to your wounds just as you did mine. He is a friend and he means no harm."

"Where is Nightshade? Bring her to me now." she continued to demand, reaching behind her back and yanking at the bandages which kept one of her wings restrained.

"Please, do not do that," Elrond spoke, getting slightly closer as she tugged harder. "Your wing is bound for the bone is cracked, it must remain in place to mend properly."

"Get away from me!" she screamed, throwing her weapon at him in a fit of rage and panic. "I don't need help from the fosterling of kinslayers!"

She could hear an audible gasp from the elf by the door and watched as Elrond froze in shock. She did not know if it was because she dared to call him such, or shock that she had known such things to begin with.

Once she had offered her knowledge of their world to them as a gift, now she would spit it at them as a curse.

"Raven, please," Glorfindel was practically pleading, inching his way closer to her. "We are trying to help. You have nothing to fear from us."

Evelyn ignored him, panic filling her with enough adrenalin to overcome the pain of her injuries, she succeeded in tearing her bandaging from her wing, quickly unraveling the bindings and releasing her wing which instantly dropped to the ground. She let out a cry of pain as the bones were jarred. That cry seemed to awaken Elrond from his shock and he surged forward to stop her.

The instant he touched her injured wing, Evelyn lept into action. Weaponless, she grasped him by his hair pulled him to his knees. Before anyone in the room could act, she pulled a tiny dagger from seemingly nowhere and had it to his throat.

The room froze.

Glorfindel had his mouth half open to speak when, at perhaps the worst moment possible, the door opened and in walked two identical faces.

"Erestor, we heard that she was-" their words tapered off in shock as they saw the scene. A wrecked room, Glorfindel with his palm extended outward, Erestor pale as a sheet as he clutched the doorframe, and their father on his knees with a blade pressed against his artery.

In an instant both twins had their weapons drawn.

"Release him this instant!" one of them ordered.

"Come any closer and your precious Ada is dead," she hissed. Then, looking to Elrond she spoke in a low, but clear voice. "These are the famous twin sons of Lord Elrond, aren't they?"

"Stop!" Glorfindel cried, stepping between the two parties, hands outstretched on both sides. "Stop this please. Elladan, Elrohir, put down your blades."

"Listen to the Balrog slayer, children," Evelyn cackled at her words. The build up of pain, fear, adrenaline, and anger was pushing her over the edge. Her voice was half manic as she spoke. "One little flick, one little flick is all it'll take. Ask Glorfindel what this little poisoned dagger can do. Ask him how quickly it can kill a man and guess how long it takes to kill an elf who is half."

The twins looked to Glorifndel who barked something at them in Elvish. They slowly lowered their weapons, eyes still glaring at Evelyn on the bed. The blond elf then turned to Evelyn, sadness clear in his eyes as he spoke slowly and calmly.

"Raven, please. Release Elrond. He has done nothing but try to help you. If you were able to leave then I would escort you out myself, but you are severely injured. You slept for three days after the battle and your wounds are nowhere close to set. The first frost has already fallen outside and you would not make it out in the wilds. Whatever happened to you in the past, whoever harmed you... that is not us. Remember the kindness you showed me? You saved me, you saved my people. I wish to return the favor, but please, let my friend go."

Evelyn hesitated, his words striking a part of her heart that she thought long gone. She looked down at the face of the elf she had locked in her arms, but saw that same impassive expression that he wore when he first walked in and saw the destruction she wrecked on the little room.

"Get Nightshade, bring her to me and I let him go," she spoke quickly, locking gazes with Glorfindel.

"She allows no one go near her," Erestor finally spoke from where he stood in the corner. "There is no way for us to move her."

At that, Evelyn tipped her head backwards and released a long, low howl. The sound was so deep, that the elves could feel it reverberating beneath their feet. She paused for a moment and a similar sound, very faint but present echoed back. Evelyn smiled- _she is still alive,_ her heart sung with joy at the confirmation.

"Open the door to her cage and so long as no one stands in her way, she will come straight to me."

"Do as she says," Elrond ordered before anyone would protest. Erestor frowned deeply, but nodded once and turned to the twins.

"I want the two of you to clear the hallways, ensure that everyone is behind a closed door, quickly now," he ordered and, after a few whispered words of Elvish they reluctantly left the room, not before tossing angry glares across towards where Evelyn still had their father in a death grip. This left Evelyn, Elrond, and Glorfindel.

"You didn't have to do this," Elrond spoke eventually, breaking the tense silence that had fallen in the room. "I understand that you are scared, but you have nothing to fear. You saved the life of my Captain many times, and three nights ago you saved the lives of my sons. Imaldris and I owe you a great dept."

"I don't trust your kind," she replied.

Silence fell again, Glorfindel still gazing at Evelyn with a mixed look of pity and remorse in his eyes. Evelyn couldn't stand it and was grateful for the distraction of another howl. She tilted her head backwards and repeated the sound. The next howl was closer and Evelyn knew that Nightshade found her.

Suddenly, from the open door came a blur of black fur and Nightshade lept onto the bed in one jump, shoving her nose into the crook of Evelyn's neck. The girl instantly released Elrond who took a quick step back as she re-sheathed her dagger somewhere in her leggings. Evelyn threw her arms around the wolf's neck as the creature made small yipping sounds of joy and comfort. The utter love and innocence of the scene contrasted starkly with the previous rage and fury in the girl's eyes.

After several moments of a deep embrace where Evelyn leeched comfort from her companion, she pulled backwards and looked deep into the wolf's eyes. The pair shared a silent discussion, Nightshade informing Evelyn of how she fell beneath an orcs club and the pair were taken to Imaldris unconscious. She expressed that the wound in her shoulder was not so great that she could not carry Evelyn if necessary, but if she were to do so for a distance in the next few days then her wound would like grow. In turn, Evelyn informed Nightshade of how her own wounds were rather severe and she didn't think that she could move.

Despite being drugged, both of their wounds had been dressed and they were not treated poorly. Now, they were reunited and thus were stronger together. The pair agreed that they would trust these elves only sparingly, and leave the moment they were able to. Once their sent conversation ended, Evelyn turned to the elves, all five now that Erestor and the twins rejoined them.

"We agree to stay until we are well enough to travel," she hesitated a moment, looking to Nightshade whose fur she still had her hand tangled in. "However, we are not to be separated."

"Well then I say that we establish a rule of no more insults or attempted asassi-" Erestor was cut off by Lord Elrond who managed to seem remarkably calm for a being threatened with imminent death mere moments before.

"I am certain that such has all gotten out of our systems," he spoke with a gentle smile. "Imaldris is famous for its hospitality and I offer it freely to you." He gave a short bow and Erestor leaned over to whisper something to the twins who quickly vacated the room. "Now, Lady Raven-"

"Raven," she corrected bluntly.

"Well, Raven," Elrond continued in his pleasant, undeterred voice. "Will you allow me to re-bandage your wing? I understand that you do no like it bound, but it is the fasted way for it to heal."

"You're willing to come near me again?"

"If you wished to kill me then you already had your chance. I do not fear you."

"You should."

Despite her words, Elrond gently approached and lifted the bandagings from the floor. After a quick inspection to find them still clean, he wound them loosely and placed them on the edge of Evelyn's bed. He then shuffled over to the door and whispered a few orders to a figure lingering at the door. After a few minutes, someone returned and Elrond accepted a small wooden bowl, shutting the door behind him.

"This is a tincture for pain. The bones in your wing are cracked severely and when I move your wing to set it, it will be incredibly painful."

Evelyn accepted the bowl and smiled wryly as she noticed that the elf was careful to give her a smooth bowl of thin wood that would be difficult to turn into a weapon. She then presented the bowl to Nightshade who sniffed deeply and nodded her head once- there were no sleeping drugs known to them in the tea.

Bringing the tea to her lips, Evelyn was pleasantly surprised the the elves had added honey to ease the bitterness and coat her rather sore throat. That pleasantness had a hint of bitter thought however as she found it to be a rather fitting metaphor for the elves themselves- sweet, honeyed words and appearances to mask a bitter foundation. She grimaced as she swallowed the last of the tea and waited patiently for it to take affect. As the minutes ticked by, she found the pain in all her injuries to be dulling and Elrond seems to take notice for he set to work. When he first approached Evelyn however, Nightshade released a low growl and bared her teeth in warning. Evelyn had to keep one hand planted firmly on the wolf's head to keep it from launching at Elrond. The elf for his part seemed to proceed slower after the warning growl as he carefully folded her wing into a proper resting position on Evelyn's back before wrapping the soft bandages around her body, securing her wing in place.

Once he was finished he stood and bowed politely, opening the door a second time to accept another small table with a tray of fruits, breads, and cheeses upon it. He used the side of his foot to sweep the broken bits of the old table to the side and set the table beside her bed. Walking to the door one last time, he returned with a wooden pitcher and cup filled with water, and a bowl for Nightshade. He placed these wordlessly on the table and floor before informing Evelyn, that none save himself, Glorfindel, and Erestor were permitted access to her rooms. And, even though she could not walk, he handed her a key that he demonstrated to work on the door.

He then glared at Glorfindel who had been silently staring at Evelyn before the pair departed with a promise from Elrond to return in a few hours with another draught for the pain.

Their leaving caused the room to be plunged into silence again, the same silence which Evelyn first awoke to. Every time she looked at the locked door, she would press the metal key in her hand so tightly against her palm, that a small puncture began to leak blood. But, that tiny would was better than the mental anguish of being locked away somewhere she could not escape. The door meant that other elves could not come and bother her, and she had the key to leave whenever she wanted.

Nightshade attempted to climb up onto the bed, but the bed frame was too small for the pair of them, especially with Evelyn's wing bound so awkwardly against her side. Evelyn however, could not sleep in such a place without the warm comfort of Nightshade at her side. Thus, in a process that likely tore more of her stitchings, she dragged herself out of bed, leaning heavily upon Nightshade as she found that she couldn't bear weight on her broken ankle. She then grasped the mattress and tugged hard. Soon, Nightshade gently nuzzled Evelyn aside and took the mattress in her strong jaws, pulling it off the bed frame. Evelyn collapsed into its soft, if a little lumpy on the floor, embrace and Nightshade curled up right next to her.

The pair soon found themselves dosing off, but, Nightshade only half slept. Her ears remained perked, swiveling back and forth as she listened for any signs of danger. She would not allow anyone to harm her friend.

* * *

"Glorfindel, please," Elrond spoke with his palm to his forehead, feeling a headache blooming behind his temples. "I heard you the first thirty times... I am aware of who you belive she is."

"But," he cried out, throwing his arms in the air. "It's her! It's really really her. She's Elenya!"

"Really?" Erestor's voice dripped sarcasm. "I don't think I noticed. Pray tell me, was she this hostile towards elves in Gondolin? Are you certain she was not on the side of the Balrog for they seem to share quite a few characteristics."

"Don't you dare," Glorfindel hissed, drawing his sword and pointing it at Erestor. The latter elf was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the room and Glorifndel made no move towards him in threat, it was more of a gesture to make a point. Nonetheless, Elrond intervened.

"I believe that tempers from a rather long and trying period of time have begun to wear thin. Perhaps we should all take a moment to collect ourselves before we do or say anything too rash."

"My apologies," Glorfindel sheathed his sword and hung his head in shame. He was acting like a brash young cadet.

"Likewise," Erestor added stiffly. Elrond knew that the Councilor was not sorry, but he had too much to worry about for the day to concern himself with that matter. His two Senior Staff members seemed 35% less likely to murder each other at the moment and that was really more than he could ask for.

"By all appearances she seems to be a mortal, the speed at which her wounds heal, the way she shivers in the cold... everything besides her wings and apparent presence in Gondolin," Elrond spoke as he thought aloud.

"Hers is a face that I cannot forget. It was her in the chasm beneath the city... she is the one responsible for the survivors who escaped..."

"But what is she?" Erestor interrupted Glorfindel's pondering. "A mortal girl with the wings of a bird? My Lord, have you ever heard of such?"

"I have not," Elrond admitted slowly. He was known as a great lore master, older than many civilizations of Middle Earth, and yet he had never even heard of such a creature. "There is a chance that another has existed that I never heard of... but if we know something to be not old, then the next assumption would be that said thing is new. She may be a new being."

"Crafted by the Valar?" Glorfindel asked, his interest peaked.

"It is something that we cannot rule out," Elrond spoke gravely. "It is no secret that the Valar hold a particular interest in you, Glorfindel. And, your fate and the maiden's are certainly intertwined."

"Her eyes," Erestor whispered.

"I saw," Elrond replied with a nod of his head. Glorfindel had made such a point about the eyes of his mysterious savior, but Elrond had not imagined them so be such. There certainly was something different about this girl. "However, I suggest that we do not pry too far into her history just yet. Trauma lies in her past and I fear it was at the hands of elves."

"She is terrified of being a prisoner," Glorfindel spoke with a distant voice, he looked out the window at the open sky and remembered the words they exchanged in the cave. "I once referred to her as my jailor in jest and she was ready to slit my throat."

"Are you implying that elves have held her prisoner?" Erestor spoke incredulously.

"I think it best we keep her presence in Imaldris a secret." Elrond cut off that line of thought, it was something to be visited another day. "For now we allow her to heal in solitude... although, I do suggest we find her a more suitable room."

"She can't stay somewhere with no windows, it looks too much like a cell... but if her heritage is mortal than the cold of uncovered windows is dangerous."

"If I may," Erestor jumped in. "The room above her current accommodations has a skylight which is covered with a pane of glass. There are no windows to let the chill in... or for her to jump out of," he added in the last bit, finally saying the unspoken concern.

"We shall do it tomorrow," Elrond spoke as he rose from his desk and began brewing a second pain numbing draught for Raven.

"Yes, I will have the twins clear the hall early tomorrow and I will escort her and Nightshade up the stairs," Glorfindel said. "I shall fetch them after supper."

"Why not now?" Erestor's brow raised in amusement as he raised his voice louder. "One would think that after so many years running about with the Dunedain, those two would become more skilled in secrecy and listening at doors."

His remarks were met with an audible shuffling on the other side of the door. Elrond could hear the distinct sound of elbows being jabbed into ribs and muffled curses before Glorfindel strode across the room in three large strides and opened the door in one sweep. With the door came two identical elves falling in a heap for they had been leaning exceedingly close to listen in. Elrond shot his sons the sternest glare he could muster, however they were rather amusing in the pile that they formed.

"We spoke with all members of the patrol," Elladan spoke smoothly from his place on the floor as if he were giving a regular report. "All the guards were informed to keep the mysterious winged girl and her wolf a secret. There are obviously rumors due to the circumstances, but no one outside of the patrol and present company has a description."

"Very good," Elrond could not help the dry sarcasms dripping into his voice. "I assume that you know what your duties are tomorrow?" he asked his sons who both nodded. "Then you are dismissed."

His sons, for all their mock foolishness knew better than to argue with him when he was in this sort of mood, and so they nodded once more, untangled their limbs, and retreated to their chambers. Elrond knew that they were in the same boat as Erestor in being rather unfond of Raven, her threatening to kill him in front of them likely did not aide in their trust, but they couldn't deny that she had saved their lives. There were far more questions than answers around that girl.

Elrond inhaled deeply to summon all of his patience as he finished the brew and handed it to Glorfindel to deliver to Raven. The elf took the bowl with a quick nod and left. Just when Elrond thought that he might receive the tiniest amount of peace, Glorfindel's rather distinctive knock echoed on his door before the blond elf entered without being beckoned forth.

"She was asleep so I left it beside her bed."

"Yes, and you came to report to me because?" Elrond continued to write, not looking up.

"She is sleeping on the floor."

"Pardon?" Elrond was forced to put down his paper at that, looking at Glorfindel with a question in his eyes.

"She moved the mattress to the floor and is sleeping curled around Nightshade... her wolf. She needs a larger bed for the two of them, they always sleep curled around each other."

"None of the beds in the Healing Halls are meant for two elves."

"Then I shall have mine moved to her new room."

"Yours?"

"I sleep alone, I have no need of such a large bed. With your permission I will have it moved tonight."

Elrond sighed deeply. Oh his friend had no clue.

"As you will," he replied, waving off Glorfindel who assumedly went in search of Lindir to have the bed switch arranged.

Glorfindel's departure left Elrond alone with his thoughts. He immediately drafted up a document to request that Glorfindel finally take some leave from work for "vacation." The elf was usually loath to leave his post and Elrond was always forced to all but order him to rest. Now however, he suspected that between the orc arrow in his arm and Imaldris' current "guest," the elf would accept time away from his duties with relish. He was extraordinarily fond of this Raven, but Elrond remained wary. There was something about her that was simply wrong. She was not dark, but there was something inside her... something more. He could not place his finger on it and her very presence in Imaldris seemed to make his life more difficult.

Then again, when was the last time that anyone made his life more simple?


	21. Chapter 21

A low rumble beneath her head had Evelyn jerking awake to see a bushel of golden hair peeking out at her from the slightly opened doorway. Nightshade gave another warning growl before while Evelyn sent the elf a glare that she knew he could feel even in the dim light.

"Good morning, Raven," Glorfindel spoke quietly. "May I come in?"

Evelyn looked down at Nightshade and the pair deemed him safe... for now. Apparently Glorfindel could see rather well as at Evelyn's slight nod, he promptly entered and lit the candle nearest the door. He approached Evelyn slowly and crouched down beside where she laid on the floor, offering her another bowl of pain killing brew and a small bowl of soup with bread to settle her stomach. After Nightshade gave it an approving sniff, she quickly downed the tea and waited for Glorfindel to speak his piece.

"We have a different room for you," he spoke softly as if worried that she would startle like a skittish foal. "It is above this one and has a skylight so you can see outside and a bigger bed for the two of you to share. I already had the twins clear the way so there will be no-one in the halls."

"What about the twins?" she knew that they would be angry with her after she threatened their father.

"They owe you their lives, Lord Elrond considers you and honored guest, and I have made it abundantly clear that you are under my personal protection."

"I'm not under your anything. I am not yours or Elrond's," she growled, pressing herself further into Nightshade.

"No," his voice almost broke, but he held back a choke. "You are right. You are no one's. But please, let us... let me help you."

Evelyn said nothing, but the idea of obtaining a room with a skylight where she could see outside was too appealing of an offer to turn down. Thus, she began dragging herself painfully to her feet. A quick test alerted her that she could no bear weight on her broken ankle and that her shoulder ached if she moved it too quickly. Glorfindel rushed forward to assist her, but an angrier growl from Nightshade had him stepping back. Once Evelyn resigned herself to not being able to walk, she carefully eased herself onto Nightshade's back, allowing the massive wolf to carry her like a horse. Glorfindel said nothing as she opened the door and allowed the pair to travel through.

True to his word, the hallway was empty and the stairs were silent as Nightshade carried Evelyn ever so carefully up. Part of Evelyn became paranoid when he walked behind her and Nightshade as they climbed the stone steps, but she eventually realized that he was worried about her falling. She ignored the flicker of something deep in her chest at the thought and instead focused on locating each window that they passed, estimating if she and Nightshade would be able to fit through them in the future when her wing was healed.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached the room and Evelyn quickly slightly from Nightshade's back and onto the bed. The circular room instantly calmed her nerves as it was so vastly different from the one before. Unlike the other room that held all the bleak sterility of a hospital or prison, this room was warm. A large pane of glass set into the ceiling revealed the red of a rising sun and a fresh dusting of powder-like clouds. The bed she was in was incredibly plush and had a large, four poster frame with intricate carvings of flowers. It was massive and could easily accommodate both her and Nightshade. Beside the bed was a beautifully crafted oak bedside stand with more carvings of flowers, a vase with fresh blossoms, and an oil lamp which may well have been designed for a child's bedroom as it was shaped into a strange elephant with the light flickering forth from its trunk. In the far corner sat a couch made of similar woods and carvings, plush with yellow fabric. On the floor, a large and soft rug covered the majority of the cold floor and a merry fire blade on in the hearth. Across the room, Evelyn spotted a small dresser with a little stack of books and a mirror hanging on the far wall.

The books in particular caught her eye. Glrofindel, who had been standing nervously at the doorway watching her observing her surroundings, instantly noticed where her gaze hitched. He immediately rushed across the room and lifted the first few in the stack, bringing them over to her Evelyn's new nightstand. As he approached with a sheepish smile on his face, Evelyn turned her awe filled gazed towards him, mind racing through the possibilities.

"Whose room is this?" she asked, knowing that such nice things couldn't possibly be communal property, even here in Imaldris.

"This room is yours for as long as you would like," he then fished a small brass key out of his pocket, offering it to her on a long string. "Here, you may enter and exit as you please, though at times there may be others who use this hall, it is connected to Elrond's private wing so mostly it is his family and a few servants."

Evelyn accepted the key wordlessly, but her face lit up when Glorfindel handed her the first book in the stack- the title was in English. She turned the canvas bound volume over and over again in her hands, savoring the weight of the book. Checking the spine, she saw that it was a book on fairy-tales of men... a storybook made by humans. She opened the cover and swept her eyes across the first page, suddenly overcome with emotion she released a choked sob. In an instant, Glorfindel was down on one knee, attempting to meet Evelyn's gaze without touching her.

"Raven- Raven," his voice pitched high with worry. "What's wrong? Was it not a good idea? Did the book bring back-"

"Memories," she supplied, a half sob still in her throat. "It's... it's just memories of a better time." She was overcome with emotion. For a moment, holding that book of foreign fairy tales brought back memories of being home, of sitting on his grandfather's lap as he told her stories about the fay, about how to look for magic. She remembered how he would read from those old, dusty volumes on his shelves and swear to her that she had magic in her just as surly as did the fairies. Oh how she missed those days, those endless days of books where words could transport her to worlds that she could just as easily escape from as enter. Evelyn turned to Glorfindel, true gratitude shining in her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He smiled so brightly, Evelyn would have sworn that the sun rose a bit higher just to peak into the room. He then informed her that he would be returning with a proper lunch when the sun rose a bit higher and that if she needed absolutely anything, then all she had to do was ask.

The golden elf turned and left, leaving Evelyn and Nightshade alone to read through the new books that she had received.

Evelyn continued to weep tears of joy. She had not held a book in... well more years than she could count. There was a time when books were her life, when she lived in them through stories, cursed them while studying, and sought them out for comfort. Now, she had just a little, tiny piece of home. No the books weren't the ones she was used to, no they weren't from her world, but these sewn together pieces of paper and ink still had that same warm, velvety scent that she perfectly associated with home, that feeling of pages crinkling against her fingers, and the warmth that spread deep in her chest felt equal parts heavy and light.

Quickly, she found herself lost between the pages of fairytale wholly new to her.

She would swear that Nightshade purred like a cat when she began to read.

* * *

A familiar, light rap sounded on the door and Elrond beckoned the elf in. Lindir, practically glided into the room and bowed, waiting to be acknowledged.

"Yes?" Elrond asked patiently, wondering what was bringing his faithful Chief Steward and minstrel to his office so early.

"My Lord... Lord Glorfindel is..." he paused, attempting to find the proper word. "Distraught?'

Elrond immediately came to attention, concerned that Glorfindel was relapsing with his nightmares.

"What makes you say so?"

"He... well..." Lindir, looking unusually flustered blushed slightly before stumbling around his next words. "He has no furniture... at least not anymore. He took one look at that tower room and disliked it immediately. Lord Glorifndel spent all night with three of my staff, moving nearly all of his furniture, including his bed, into the room. He even took the rug off his floors and placed it in there." Elrond sighed heavily, but allowed Lindir to continue rising in speed and pitch. "His clothes are currently stacked on his floor as he moved his dresser into that room and he is sleeping on a cot from the Healing Halls and there is no way for the workshops to build him a new set for weeks." He finished his speech with a bit of a huff, raising his chin in irritated defiance.

"Thank you Lindir," Elrond warred with laughing or sighing in exasperation. "I am certain that Lord Glorfindel will not mind using the furniture from the Healing Halls for now. Do not worry about it."

"Thank you," he bowed low before being dismissed.

Elrond thought that the incident was over, but no sooner had Lindir left than another knock sounded on his door. He bade them enter and placed the letter that he was attempting to draft on his desk, surprised to find Galoriel, one of the senior gardeners standing hesitantly before him.

"What can I help you with, Galoriel?" he asked.

"My Lord... I fear that someone may have climbed the walls into your personal gardens last night," she spoke with great concern for she knew that Lord Elrond rarely locked the door leading from his personal wing into the garden. His personal garden had exceptionally high walls and Imaldris was relatively safe, but no one save his staff and those who dwelled in his wing ever entered the small gardens.

"What makes you think so?" he asked, curiosity peaked slightly.

"There were... flowers missing. A good number of Day Lilies, Daffodils, and Golden Roses were cut sometime in the night... they were perfectly fine yesterday morning." She paused for a moment before continuing. "The plants are fine my Lord, no harm done... but they were certainly not cut in a pleasing pattern. It seemed that whoever cut them only selected their favorite blossoms, uncaring how unevenly they trimmed the plant."

"Day Lilies, Daffodils, and Golden Roses," Elrond hummed in thought. "Those would be some of Lord Glorfindel's favorite flowers?"

"I... I suppose so my Lord."

"There is no cause for concern Galoriel," he smiled gently at the young elf. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention however."

The gardener bowed gently and exited with a quick shuffle whilst Elrond could feel the beginnings of a headache forming. He was quickly regretting his decision to force Glorfindel to take time off his duties, half encouraged to send him out on the next patrol. Nonetheless, he continued with his letter, nearly reaching the end of it when another knock sounded. Elrond bit back a scathing greeting and instead beckoned them to enter.

"My Lord," a young servant from the kitchen entered with an early lunch on a tray.

"Ah," he smiled, genuinely pleased. "Thank you. You may set it on that table."

"Of course my Lord," the young elf hurried to comply, but hesitated a moment before leaving. "My Lord..." Elrond looked back up from his desk and smiled tightly, nodding his head to urge the boy to continue. "The Head Cook wished for me to inform you that Lord Glorfindel made quite the ruckus in her kitchens... he was requesting raw, fresh meat and insisted on hovering over her while she prepared a bowl of soup and cuttings of bread." The young elf flushed red at having to deliver the news and Elrond almost felt bad for him. "She... she told me to inform you that the next time he breathes down her neck while she cooks... 'Balrog slayer or not she'll chase him out of her kitchen with the nearest ladle,' and she seemed a bit serious as she said it." He bit his lip lightly, waiting for Elrond to reply.

Elrond blankly stared at him for several moments, mind processing what he just heard. eventually, he gave up attempting to wrap his head around the unnecessary violence of his upper staff and merely dismissed him with an assurance that he would be speaking to Glorfindel.

Left alone with his still unfinished letter, Elrond attempted to muster up the courage to dip his feather into the inkwell. _Maybe, just maybe, Eru will allow me to finish one piece of business before the sun reaches its height._

That thought was interrupted by another knock on his door. Elrond fought the urge to bang his head agains this desk as the firm, precise rapping continued. He would recognize that knock anywhere.

"Enter, Erestor," he spoke as clearly as he could, shuffling several papers across his desk. He had so much work to do that day...

"My Lord," he offered a stiff bow, that type he always used when he was immensely displeased. "There are books missing from the library."

"What is it that makes me assume that this has something to do with Glorfindel?" Elrond asked, brow raised.

"Your foresight is ever perceptive my Lord," he bit back dryly. "It seemed that Glofindel found it suitable to break into my library in the middle of the night... mind you he has no key so I haven't the faintest idea how me managed to... but he deemed it suitable to break in and steal several volumes, all from the Common section."

"If it was the middle of the night, how are you certain that it was Glorfindel?"

Erestor only raised his own brow in response, forcing Elrond to nod in acknowledgment. There was no other being in Imaldris who would risk Erestor's wrath by breaking into the library at night to check out books without properly logging them with the staff. Plus, there was really only one being residing in Imaldris who would require reading material exclusively in Common.

"I shall be speaking with Glorfindel soon and I will mention the books... as well as the furniture, the flowers, and the food," Elrond dropped his forehead to his hands, inhaling deeply to draw on as much of his patience as he could muster.

Erestor merely shot him a strange look before continuing.

"However, I did not come here just to inform you of Glorfindel's theft," he took a seat in the chair pulled beside Elrond's desk. "I wish for permission to interrogate our newest _guest_." The word "guest" he uttered with upmost contempt in his voice.

"Interrogations are for prisoners and Raven is no prisoner."

"Then allow me to interview her."

"I do not think such is wise. She is frightened and untrusting of us. I am certain that she will reveal more when the time is right."

"Glorfindel claims that she was present when Gondolin fell and she appeared when orcs attacked the patrol. She always seems to be at the footsteps of chaos and is utterly contemptuous of the Eldar." He paused and then continued. "Aside from that... she obviously knows more than she should for a mortal."

Erestor was of course referring to her insult thrown at Elrond the previous day: _fosterling of kinslayers_... thinking back on it, Elrond couldn't recall any other being bold enough to call him such to his face... only in rumors and whispers of gossip.

"There are many mysteries surrounding Raven, but I do not think it wise to upset her," Elrond hesitated at his words and Erestor pounced.

"I am concerned for the safety of Imalrdis."

"Such is Glorfindel's task."

"And you think him capable of making such decisions in this case?"

Elrond frowned, but considered Eresor's words carefully. In truth, he knew his Councilor was right, but he was loath to upset the fragile girl further. For all her fire and the words she spat at him, she still seemed incredibly young and bore the fragile body of a mortal, wounded deeply in battle.

"We shall _both_ go to speak with her later today."

"Thank you, my Lord," Erestor bowed, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

"But remember, we proceed with caution and curtesy. She has suffered much already."

"Of course," Erestor nodded and left.

Elrond's quill was set on the bottom of the page of his letter. He was about to sign it and get his first piece of work actually completed for the day. Just as he thought that maybe, maybe he could get _some _work done, his door flew open without so much of a knock. There were precisely four elves in all of Imadris who made a habit of opening the door to his office without knocking, and three of them were his children. Elrond looked up and unsurprisingly found the elf he had just been hearing so much about.

"Are you here to launch a complaint against yourself?" he asked before Glorfindel could speak up.

Glorfindel froze in place, a look of confusion crossing his eyes before shrugging it off. He plopped himself down in the chair by Elrond's desk, wincing only slightly as his tender side was jarred by the sudden movement.

"I wish to speak about Raven."

"I supposed as much."

"She seems to be adjusting well, but she is still so frightened... and how does one broach the subject of the other being a creature of the past who saved their and their peoples' lives?"

Elrond glanced out the window briefly. The sun was climbing higher and its light cast a warm glow into the room though the open window. Outside he could hear the winter birds singing as the trees, having lost the last of their leaves, were in the process of falling asleep for the winder. The grounds of Imaldris were so peaceful... if only the household were such.

"I do not think there is a protocol for such things," he spoke with a wry grimace. "However, Erestor and I shall be speaking with her later today." He held up his hadn't at Glorfindel's protest. "We will be gentle with her, but we need to know what she is, and how she possibly came about being in Gondolin."

"I should like to be there."

"I will allow you under one condition," he hesitated, but if he did not allow Glorfindel in the room as they questioned the girl then he would surly find a way to listen in. The twins certainly considered Glorfindel their mentor in more ways than one and he indeed taught them much. "You are to remain silent. Erestor and I will connect the interview, and if he becomes too harsh then _I _shall intervene. Is that understood?"

Glorfindel paused in through for several moments before nodding his head stiffly.

"Good, we shall conduct the interview a few hours after lunch. I assume that you are taking her her food?"

"So long as she can tolerate it, I think I will be taking her her meals. I brought her here, I will see to her needs."

Elrond didn't bother to remind Glorfindel that Lindir was more than capable of organizing hospitality for guests and merely nodded before staring rather pointedly at the door until Glorfindel left. He waited for several minutes, frozen in place. When nothing else came to disturb him, he slumped back in relief as he dove into his paperwork. Somehow his usually tedious tasks seemed a delight... until another knock sounded.

"My Lord," it was Hammoron, the Head Tailor. "Apologies my Lord... but Glorfindel has just put in a rather strange request. A commission for... several gowns..."

Elrond sighed audibly this time, it looked like he would never finish any of his work.


	22. Chapter 22

"Raven?" Glorfindel knocked lightly on the door, listening to the low growl of Nightshade.

"You have a key," she grumbled. Glorfindel took that reply as the closest he would get to permission and thus entered the room.

"I brought you lunch," he put on his best cheerful grin as he carried the laden tray over towards the little nightstand. "I've got fresh bread, butter, cheese, roasted potatoes, carrots, fresh berries, ham, chicken, tea, apple cider, and water."

Raven stared blankly at the tray and turned to look at Glorfindel with an expression that could be read either as amusement or annoyance.

"Might I join you?" Glorfindel was met with another blank stare. Seeing as she did not move to evict him however, he deemed it safe for him to pull up a chair beside her bed. He immediately began digging into his food and waited patiently for Raven to reach for the plate. It was only once she finished a few bites that he spoke up again.

"So how are you liking Imladris?" he asked with an innocent smile, doing his absolute best to ignore the very clear oliphant in the room.

"It is dull."

"Well I suppose the valley tends to keep things rather peaceful. Wait until you see the gardens! When you are recovered enough to walk we can go there and enjoy the sunshine and snow. Elrond's private gardens are absolutely lovely and no one ever enters them. In fact, that's where those flowers are from," he grinned at the memory of one particular blossom that was hanging near the very top of the walls.

"I've never liked cut flowers."

"Oh? Why not?" he bit his lip in nervousness. _Is she allergic? What if she doesn't like the smell?_

"It seems a waste to kill such a thing for aesthetics. Even placed in water the flowers are slowly dying."

"Oh... yes. I suppose so..." Glorfindel trailed off, not quite knowing where to go from there.

Their meal fell into silence and Glorfindel took his time to gaze over the room that he put together. The fire was still blazing nicely and he had no need to tend to it, but the majority of the books were still stacked on the opposite end of the room and he made a mental note to himself to move them over to the dresser after Elrond's interrogation... best not give her any weapons.

"Where are my things?" Raven asked suddenly, as if reading Glorifndel's mind in regards to weapons.

"Your uh... things," he could feel his face heating up as he attempted to maneuver his way around that one. "Oh well, Lord Elrond put them, er uhm... away. They've been nicely cleaned and are now being stored for... security."

"Your Lord doesn't trust me with weapons?"

"He uh..."

They lapsed into silence after that. Glorfindel found himself fidgeting in his chair, unsure of how to proceed. He had a million questions, but none of them seemed appropriate to ask. It would not be long before Elrond and Erestor arrive with their own interrogation, and Glorfindel didn't want to pressure the girl. Part of him wanted to reach out, to touch her and test if she was indeed real. He, an elf that came back from the dead, could hardly believe that she was really there, alive after all those years. Se was so young too... far too young to have lived on Middle Earth for the centuries between his death and rebirth.

"So... you decided to stick around Imladris?" he asked as casually as he could.

"Obviously."

"Thank you, by the way, for saving me again."

"It's not me who you should thank," as she spoke, she carded her fingers through Nightshade's fur. The wolf, who had not left Raven's side since being allowed in the same room, looked up at him with bright eyes as if asking for her thanks.

"You have my eternal gratitude, Nightshade," he put a hand over his heart and inclined his head towards the wolf. He would've sworn that she nodded her head as well.

Raven watched this with a discerning eye, still carding her wingers through the wiry coat covering Nightshade's neck. She looked down and seemed to be speaking more to the wolf as she addressed Glorfindel.

"It seems that she's taken a fancy to you... I intended to leave as soon as the archers were taken out."

"Ah yes, thank you for saving my patrol as we-"

"I did not do it to save them," she spoke sharply, cutting off Glorfindel's words. "I merely despise orcs slightly more so than elves... and barely at that."

Glorfindel fell silent again. He had no idea what to say, and nothing that he could say sounded right. Raven was obviously hurting, obviously pained by something, though he didn't know what.

Another knock sounded on the door, and this time Nightshade released a low growl with a slight snarl, though she did not bother to lift her head.

"I would assume that to be Elrond?" she asked.

"Indeed," Lord Elrond replied from behind the door. "It is I and Master Erestor... may we come in?"

Glorfindel watched carefully as she looked down at Nightshade before calling back a rather unenthusiastic affirmative. He rose from his seat by her bedside, moving to stand unobtrusively in the corner. Although Elrond granted him permission to attend the "interview," Glorfindel had no doubts that the Lord would not hesitate to kick him out should he prove to be a problem. And, Glorfidnel couldn't bare the thought of Raven enduring Erestor's ceaseless curiosity on her own.

* * *

"Ah, Raven," Elrond walked in with a. gentle smile, followed quickly behind by a stern looking elf who Evelyn knew to be Erestor. "It is good to see you well. How is the pain? I've brought another draught."

"With perhaps an extra ingredient to loosen my tongue?" Evelyn shot back. She was no fool. Three elves, all of high positions in the household convening in her room at the same time- this was no social call.

"I can assure you that this is just for the pain," as Elrond spoke he had a gentle, maybe even sad smile tugging on his lips, but Evelyn had seen false pity in elves before.

"I decline."

Elrond said nothing, merely handing the bowl of tea to Glorfindel who moved it to the dresser. Glorfindel and Erestor then moved the couch from the corner of the room and placed it closer to the bed. The former elf retreated back to his spot against the wall whilst Erestor took as seat beside Elrond.

"Raven," Elrond spoke gravely. "I would like to formally thank you for saving the lives of my sons, Glorfindel, and the patrol. I have read the full report and if it were not for the actions of yourself and your wolf, then it is likely that they would've been slaughtered."

From the corner, Evelyn could see Glorifndel stiffening as he knew what her response would be, but she answered the same anyway.

"I did not do it to save the lives of elves. I merely despise the orcs less."

"Nonetheless, Imladris is in your debt," Elrond replied without pause.

"If you came to thank me, then you may leave," Evelyn's words were punctuated by another growl from Nightshade. She could feel the wolf's apprehension of three elves in one room that they were trapped in. Evelyn was indeed, not the only one to suffer losses at the hands of elves.

"In truth, we came to ask you some questions... regarding your identity."

Evelyn inhaled deeply, thinking over her options. If she told them the truth, she would be met with disbelief. If she lied to them... then they would be able to tell. Something about Elrond just seemed like he had the ability to utterly stare into one's soul. A thought came to mind... perhaps a counter.

"Why are your eyes so dull?"

"Pardon?"

"You and Erestor... your eyes are dull compared to Glorfindel's." There was a pregnant pause in the room before Elrond replied.

"Glorfindel is among the Calaquendi... the Light Elves who saw the two trees. His eyes still shine with their light. Erestor and I were born on Middle Earth, we do not share in such."

"But you do," Erestor spoke and Nightshade, who seemed to take a particular dislike to the councilor, growled once more.

"I do what?"

"Your eyes shine brighter than those of the Calaquendi. Do you hail from Aman?" he continued despite a rather irritated glare from Elrond.

"I'm not from your Undying Lands," she drawled. "I'm from a place you've never heard of." _Half truths are safest._

"How old are you?"

"I haven't been keeping track, but not as old as Glorfindel would suppose."

"Were you brought back from the dead?" Elrond pressed further.

"No."

"Are you of the Maiar?"

"No."

"How were you in Gondolin?"

"Don't know."

"Would you tell us from where you hail? Perhaps we can contact your people."

"I have none."

"What are you?!" Erestor, who couldn't seem to hold back his frustration at Evelyn's non-answers exploded in anger.

_"What are you?"- Oh Evelyn recalled this words well, the words of a haughty King ready to toss her aside because he could not bear her answer. "What are you? Crebain"- those dark birds that are spies of Sauron. Perhaps that is what this counselor thinks of me. Perhaps he thinks of me as a dark spy, these wings a mark of my evil. Oh I'll show him..._

"Do you not know?" she asked with a feigned air of innocence, so sweetly done it was obviously in mocking.

"Should we?" Elrond attempted to gain control, but Erestor continued.

"It is a simple question. A girl who shivers like an Edain, but flies like a bird with eyes as bright as a Calaquendi. What are you?" It seemed that Evelyn had thoroughly vexed the Counselor.

"Oh what you would give to know the answer," she hissed back. She could feel Nightshade tensing beneath her in response to her anger. The wolf's hackles were rising.

"Tis' a simple question! What are you?! What do you want here?!"

"Erestor, please," Glorfindel attempted, but was beaten away by a glare from Elrond.

Evelyn could hear the voice of Thranduil hissing in her ear... questioning her on who she was, what where her intentions. _I don't know... _she wanted to cry it out to the highest mountains. _I don't know what I am or what I'm doing here! I don't know how I got here, who sent me, or what I am supposed to be doing. _

She tried before, oh how she tried to ask questions, to plead, to beg. Each time she was rejected. Each time she told the truth, she was told that she spoke lies.

"Erestor," Elrond warned.

"She is hiding something! Recall what she called you when she first awoke, she knows more than a mortal should. She speaks of things that she knows not!"

Oh she could still hear him, the hiss of his breath as he determined her fate. The folly of kings and lords... "noble" men who could determine the fate of another based on personal prejudice alone.

_You speak of things you know not... You are a spy, or some other form of evil mischief_

"I know much more. Does that disturb you?" Evelyn's voice rose, Nightshade snarled, and Erestor stood, pointing an accusatory finger at her.

"What are you?!"

_Creiban_

Evelyn had enough. Her short stay in Imladris proved effective in dragging up old memories that she had spent years attempting to bury. She pushed herself as far up as she could in her bed. Nightshade stood beside her, fangs bared and eyes locked on Erestor who was still pointing at her. She reached into the back of her memory and recalled the lines from that book that she once treasured, pulling every bit of malice she held for the elves into her words.

"_Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul,ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul,_" as she hissed the words, she felt a strange sort of power flow through her. She watched in morbid delight as all three elves in the room closed their eyes, pushing their heads into their hands and groaning in pain at the words of the Dark Speech.

These high and mighty elves, the beings holding themselves os superior and righteous... look how easily they're hurt by mere words. Only such a perfunctory species such as the elves could be hurt so much by words alone. It was a gloriously intoxicating rush of power.

"What-"

Before Elrond could finish his question, Evelyn spoke.

"Get out!" She pointed angrily at the door as she continued. "Get out and leave me be. If you want me gone then return my weapons and I shall disappear within an hour. If not then leave me alone!"

To make her point abundantly clear, Nightshade chose that moment to leap from her place at Evelyn's side, lunging towards Erestor who released a rather undignified yelp as he stumbled backwards. Elrond stood slowly, hands held up in a gesture of peace as he walked in reverse.

"Peace," his voice was soothing and Evelyn ignored the strange tugging that she could feel in her mind. "My apologies. We held no intention to upset you."

"Get out or Nightshade might test if your counselor tastes as bitter as he acts," the wolf beside Evelyn her growled along with the threat.

"Raven-" Glorfindel tried.

"Out!"

Erestor was the first to flee, razor sharp jaws gnashing as his heels. Elrond was next, hands still up in a placating gesture as he exited as peacefully as he entered. It was only Glorfindel who lingered, pausing to look back at Evelyn and Nightshade, two rays of blinding fury.

"I am sorry," he whispered before slipping out the door.

Evelyn flopped back on her pillow, exhausted and filled with pain. She was at the level where back at home, she would likely just mix some poppy pod paste with amber and chew on it for a bit. She couldn't trust whatever Elrond put in that tea however, especially not after that outburst.

It looked like they would have to move up their leaving date. The less time they spent in Imladris amongst the elves, the better.

* * *

Elrond had what felt like piles of work to catch up on. His interview with Raven had been rather unfruitful and resulted in him scolding both of his senior staff about their tempers before sending them away to cool off. It also introduced the Black Speech into Imladris which he was decently cross about and created yet more questions about the bright eyed youth. Now, he was stuck with the piles of paperwork that had built up in the time since Glorfindel and then his sons went missing.

Just as he succeed in pushing the enigma of a child out of his mind however, a knock sounded on his door.

It was Galoriel again.

"My Lord," she seemed slightly hesitant.

"If more flowers went missing, then don't worry about it," he dismissed the problem easily, assuming that Glorfindel was likely attempting to make up with Raven after their last incident. He had already returned to his work when Galoriel, still by the door, cleared her throat. "Yes?" He asked impatiently.

"It's Glorfindel, my Lord..."

"Are you launching a complaint about his cutting of the flowers?"

"No my Lord..." she still seemed hesitant, but continued. "It's just that he's out there right now and... well he's digging up one of the Golden Rose bushes."

Elrond looked up.

"He's digging up a rose bush?"

"Yes."

"An entire bush?"

"Yes."

Once again, Elrond found himself with his forehead to the palm of his head, contemplating the urge to push his head through his desk. Instead however, he dismissed the gardener and promised to speak to the reborn elf about the gardens.

He didn't even have time to pick up his quill again when Lindir sprinted into the room, incredibly flustered.

"My Lord! The hallway! There's dirt all up and down as if someone has broken into the-"

"I am aware of the situation, and there's no need to fear Lindir," Elrond spike as calmly as he could manage. "Pleas ensure that it is cleaned. I will deal with the cause later."

Linder bowed and left, leaving Elrond to contemplate the possibility of having Glorfindel and Erestor simply kill each other and save him the hassle.


	23. Chapter 23

Evelyn was bored. It was that sort of mind numbing boredom that makes one want to kick and scream on the ground like a toddler. A slightly vindictive grin tugged on her lips as she contemplated doing just that to see how the elves would react. Ever since the attempted interrogation, the elves of Imladris trended around her as if they were walking on glass. In a way, they were... while they may have taken the majority of her weapons, she did still have her poison dagger... and Nightshade.

Evelyn was also a bit paranoid. After her outburst with the Black Speech, she knew that Elrond must certainly be on edge and thus she was constantly worried that he might drug her food. She had taken to only accepting whole fruits and vegetables whilst refusing any of the pain killing potions that Glorfindel brought. Several times Elrond had entered her chambers and intreated her to drink the potions... what surprised Evelyn the most however was the fact that he did not force her to drink them.

There was a time... years ago in Mirkwood, when she went on a huger strike. _One... maybe two years in..._ She decided that she had had enough and refused to eat. The stupid elvish guards took over a week before they realized that she was wasting away. In response, the guards on duty took to force feeding her lembas and water. The affair had left her with a significant number of bruises and a throat that was sore for days. After that she ate her food and avoided eye contact with the guards whenever they came to pick up her tray.

Before she could ponder such things further, Nightshade released a strange growl... it was someone new.

Glorfindel visited several times a day, brining Evelyn food and attempting to speak with her about all matter of nonsense. Thankfully, he gave up on inquiring her past ever since the interrogation. Unfortunately, he seemed to have the ability to talk endlessly with mind numbing chatter. During his long winded rants and constant questions probing useless information... _why does he care what my favorite color is? _he would often mention through offhanded remarks how Evelyn was indeed there in Gondolin or how he dreamed of her often. His visits had become so frequent that Nightshade's growl upon his approach was bordering friendly much to Evelyn's annoyance.

But this growl... no it was something different. Evelyn cocked her head to the side, much like a wolf, and listened to the footsteps that she soon heard. _Footsteps... no elf makes noise whilst walking down hallways. _

The knock on her door was also predictably more heavy handed than usual, and a strong and clear voice called to her.

"Hello, Raven correct?" a rather human sounding voice inquired from the other side of the door. Sufficiently curious as to the new visitor, Evelyn bade for him to enter.

In stepped a tall and broad shouldered man. He had grey eyes and damp hair that was dark and fell to his shoulders. He wore a dull, but finely woven tunic and around his waist was a belt and scabbard... but no sword. He stood upright, hesitant in his steps forward, but confident in his own skin. There was only one such man who could ever walk the halls of Imladris dressed in an elven tunic.

"Hello Aragorn," Evelyn said, voice flat.

"You know me," his reply held a question, but no surprise.

"Or do you prefer Estel whilst in this house?"

"Glorfindel spoke of how you asked about me," he stated plainly as he sat.

"So we are being blunt?"

"Why were you so concerned about my age?"

As he leaned forward in inquiry, Nightshade released a warning growl. He dutifully took notice and backed up slightly.

"There are certain things that I know in the world, and certain things that I do not wish to share, Strider."

"Point taken," he leaned back and pulled forth a tray bearing a large vat of stew, two bowls, and a loaf of crusty bread. "A peace offering then, care to share a meal?"

"I-"

"Yes, I understand that you are hesitant to take food from Lord Elrond as you fear that he intends to drug you. However you cannot heal and survive on fruit alone so I, as a man, would be affected by any drugs as easily as you. Thus, if we share a meal and eat the same food, you will know that it is not tainted."

Evelyn considered his words for several moments, mulling over any potential areas of deceit. Finding no obvious loopholes, she nodded and allowed for the man to pull over the table and set up the meal. She watched carefully as he spooned two rather large bowls of rich venison stew and offered Evelyn her choice. Picking a bowl at random, she accepted the hunk of bread and dipped into the warm and filling meal with relish. In truth, was beginning to feel the tuggings of hunger and the steaming stew seemed to settle a warmth in her chest.

Once they both finished their meals, Aragorn left without a word. From then on, three times a day Aragorn would visit Evelyn and they would share a meal together. Unlike Glorfindel's still frequent visits, these meals with Aragorn were usually passed in silence with the occasional word or story shared. There was something strangely comforting about being around another human, someone who lacked those pointed ears and perfectly formed faces... he was more real. Perhaps mostly however, glimpses of his face did not bring back nightmares of darkness.

"Why?" she finally blurted out one day as they shared a roast duck. Aragorn took a moment to wipe his mouth on a napkin before he looked at her with a gentle smile.

"You're getting stronger."

"I'm aware."

"You would've wasted away if you kept up your diet. And... I thought that you needed a friend."

Evelyn allowed for them to lapse into silence for a little while more, however it seemed that Aragorn took her question as an invitation to speak.

"I won't ask you why you fear elves so much..." Evelyn's head whipped up at his words. She always assumed that the elves believed her actions towards them were born of hatred... not fear. "However," he continued. "Would you allow me to ask why you saved Glorfindel and my brothers' patrol?"

Evelyn pondered the question for a little while... in truth she couldn't state an exact answer. She wanted to hate the elves, to curse their existence. But at the same time she couldn't quite manage it. The first time she save Glorfindel all those years ago... it was a matter of pure instinct, a recklessly brave and foolish act that apparently had consequences reaching further than she ever imagined. The second time... she couldn't quite say. He looked so brave, so strong, and so alone. Perhaps it was the loneliness which spurred her to stand beside him. Perhaps it was pity that overtook her fear of his features.

"I... I don't know," she answered honestly.

"I understand," his eyes scanned the room and fell upon the rosebush blooming by the window. "You have a beautiful plant there."

"Yes," a twinge of a smile crossed Evelyn's face. "Glorfindel brought it up and has been taking care of it... I'm surprised it survived."

"He's beloved of Yavanna."

"Pardon?"

"Yavanna, Giver of Fruits and among the Aratar and Valar. She blesses all living things and is said to have always been fond of the House of the Golden Flower... Glorfindel is the last of their lords."

"I can see why she would love him..."

* * *

Glorfindel had a spectacular idea. He was nearly bursting with excitement as he raced through the halls to Elrond's study. Raven was recovering nicely, and Elrond had previously stated that she should be ready to walk about at least a little bit. Glorfindel was absolutely determined to be her guide.

He knocked on the door, but being too impatient to wait for a response, promptly flung it open and was greeted by the sight of Elrond and Erestor. Both appeared to be mid conversation and as usual, Erestor had a rather peeved expression on his face.

"I think we shall go to the gardens!" Glorfindel declared with a broad grin.

"And how do you think she'll react to the other residents of Imladris?" Erestor's wry frown indicated that he had a rather good idea on what her reaction would be.

"I shall take her and Nightshade through your personal gardens..." he looked to Elrond with a wide, decently un wariror-like gaze. "If you would allow it."

"I'm not sure if that's safe-" Erestor, still unforgiving after her incident with the Black Speech cut in. "Who not of Morgoth's spawn knows the language... much less the prophesy?"

"You," Glorfindel placed rather bluntly.

"Counselors," Elrond's sharp tone interrupted both grown elves bickering like elflings. "I believe that is quite enough. Yes there is much that we do not know about the child, but she has not harmed a single elf though she had many opportunities to do so. I trust Glorfindel to handle any situation should it arise."

Erestor nodded his head in acquiescence, but before Glorfindel could thank Elrond, the Lord of Imladris turned and fixed him with a rather severe stare.

"But, should I find that you allowed her to exert herself to the point of hindering her recovery then I will not hesitate to ban you from visiting."

Glorfindel nodded once before racing out the doors like a band of wargs were at his heels. He was so quick to sprint down the hallway, that he missed the conversation still taking place back in Elrond's study.

"He is like an elfling with a hopeless crush..." Erestor mused.

"She represents much to him... he sees her as the savior of Gondolin... of his people."

"But what will she be to us?"

"Only Eru knows."

* * *

The Golden One came bouncing into the room so quickly, Nightshade barely had a chance to warn Nightwing, the name that she gave to her person, about his approach. Her growl for his entrance had become decently less aggressive than in the past... but she still did not fully trust him.

He still smelled like Pup-Slayers.

However, despite what Night-Wing might say, Nightshade knew that the person was fond of the Golden-One for whatever silly reason. It was due to this fondness that Nightshade saved him during that battle and tolerated him now... no matter how annoying his chatter got.

This time though, he had something actually interesting to say! Apparently the Healer-One agreed to allow Nightwing and Nightshade out to walk about the gardens. Nightwing immediately agreed with great enthusiasm as Nightshade stood and stretched out her muscles. It had been a long time since she was last able to fully use her body as she was loath to leave Nightwing alone in a building filled with Pup-Slayers. She also knew that despite what Nightwing though, she was going to end up carrying the person. There was no way that her fragile bones had managed to stitch themselves back together so quickly.

As soon as Nightshade slipped out of bed, she offered up her back to Nightwing, cajoling her to climb on. It amused Nightshade greatly to see the incredulous expression on the Golden-One upon seeing the pair together in such a manner. Nightshade knew that she was bigger than most of her kin and she knew that she could look terrifying with Nightwing atop her back.

The little trio took off, Nightwing mentioning to Nightshade how she _could walk,_ but promptly quieted when Nightshade reminded her on the number of stairs that Pup-Slayers are so fond of building into their homes. As they walked, the Golden-One insisted on his usual chatter, blabbering away at nothing in particular.

Then, they reached the gardens.

The second they stepped outside the doors, Nightshade could feel a thrill of exhilaration rushing though her as she took in the senses of the outdoors. She could hear more Pup-Slayers training with swords and bows in the far distance, could smell the delicious scent of fresh roasted meat wafting from some open kitchen window, and could feel the cool breeze billowing through her fur.

She knew that Nighwing was also aware of the breeze and instantly felt a wave of longing from the person who missed her flight so much. Nightshade did the best that she could to comfort the girl, reminding her that once her wing healed, she would be back to the skys. Now, why Nightwing loved flying so much was beyond Nightshade. She much preferred to feel the tickling of grass beneath her feet, the rush of dirt being tossed back by every long stride she took.

Oh how she longed to race across the grounds at that moment, how she longed to give Nightwing the illusion of flight as they raced through the valley. But alas, Nightwing was still injured and Nightshade would not do anything to harm the girl. Plus, the Golden-One would certainly not be pleased and would likely give chase.

"Now follow me this way!" the Golden-One cried in excitement. "Lord Elrond's private gardens are some of most beautiful and secluded walkways in all of Imladris. The twins hardly ever frequent them anymore so really it's just-"

Nightshade purposely sped up, forcing the Golden-One to cease his chatter and take long strides to keep up with the pair. She could feel Nightwing grinning and chuckling above her as the girl knew what Nightshade was doing.

_No sign of the Grumpy-One yet... so far so good._


	24. Chapter 24

For over an hour they walked and talked... or perhaps to better describe it, they walked and Glorfindel talked. In all her years, Evelyn had never met another creature who could so easily babble in such a joyful and exuberant way. Yes there were many _many _she knew who could gossip or whine or vent for hours upon end... but never had she met a soul who could spend hours in speaking with not a single complaint falling from their lips.

Instead, Glorfindel laughed and joked. He told stories of his elven warriors, marveled at the flowers- skipping over the rather obvious brown patch of a missing bush, and joked about his own adventures. He was courteous and had learned his lesson well to avoid the topic of Evelyn's past... but he could not resist but make remarks about his past encounters with her both in life and in the realm of Lorien.

Overall though, Evelyn found herself enjoying the walk. Even riding upon Nightshade's back however was tiring. Her injuries weighed heavily on her and as she had been refusing medication, her healing progression was slow. Due to this, they took a break to sit beneath an elegant gazebo beside a fountain. The water was so cool and fresh that Glorfindel drew forth an empty flask and filled it with water. Before he handed it to Evelyn however, he pulled out a small, metal flask and held it up to the light.

"Tis Miruvor... the cordial of Imladris," Glorfindel explained, his face open and earnest. "A few drops added to the water will help to revitalize you."

"I have made it clear-"

"You take substance from Estel."

"That is different."

"As he is no elf?"

Evelyn went silent. How could she explain to him that she simply could not trust? How could she express the pain that still rippled through her mind each night when she found herself once again trapped and enclosed... locked away in the bowels of a cave... young and alone and afraid?

"You've been wronged by my kin before," he spoke half in question, half in a resigned sigh. When Evelyn's eyes fell to her lap and her hand to Nightshade's neck though, it became obvious to Glorfindel what the answer to his query was. "Raven..." he waited until she lifted her gaze to meet his. "I promise you that I am not them."

"You promise?" he voice was bitter and mocking. Oh she had heard promises before...

_She had been locked in the cell for longer than she could recall... long trapped in the dark where day and night were determined by which guards stood at her door. She had not been spoken to for months at least... total solitude with no companions to speak of. She thought that she had lost all hope, that the dripping of water leaking through the cave, the silent treed of elvish guards exchanging shifts, and the occasional musical flow of their language would be her only companions in the dark. _

_Then he came... and elf who dismissed the guards at her door with a wave of his hand. He sat with his legs closed in front of her cell and handed her a fresh apple! She was hesitant and scared, but after a kind smile she became brave enough to try a bite- it was heaven. The crisp crunch of that first bite as white flesh as sweet as the purest honey in all the worlds exploded across her tongue. She closed her eyes in silent bliss as it was the first hint of freshness that she had tasted in months... maybe years where her diet consisted of cold gruel and stale bread. _

_She looked up at the figure who granted her such a treat. He had blond hair with fine braids holding back the sides... the braids of an archer. His face was as pale as most of the elves in the fortress, but his eyes were an icy blue that were so brilliant, they were almost alien. His face was far softer than that of any elf she had met, and Evelyn dared to hope that there was kindness or caring in his eyes. _

_"I am called Legolas... and you are the mysterious trespasser that my father found."_

_Legolas! Evelyn's mind cried out in alarm. He was the Mirkwood prince who was destined to join the Fellowship... whose bow saved the lives of the other eight walkers so many times... he was young... considered naive... but most of all he was described oft as kind. A small surge of hope filled Evelyn as she realized that this might be her chance... that perhaps if she let just enough slip then maybe he would believe her. He needed to go to Rivendell eventually, perhaps she could convince him to take her and maybe Lord Elrond would understand her plight more. _

_"H-hi," she choked out softly. It felt strange to talk after so long spent in silence. _

_"Hello," his smile was warm and oh so genuine. "I'm certain that you don't like being in here."_

_Evelyn only nodded in response. What kind of a statement was that? Was there any should who enjoyed being imprisoned for months- years... where did time go? Perhaps the elves thought less of it for they were immortal... perhaps her prison sentence was the equivalent of a timeout to an elf. Either way she found her throat supremely dry. _

_"Do you mean my people harm?"_

_"No!" she cried in alarm. "I don't and I never did!"_

_"How about this," as he spoke he leaned closer to the bars of Evelyn's cell, so close that she might even be able to touch him if she reached through. "If you promise to tell me the absolute truth... and if indeed you mean us no harm... then I will ensure that you are moved from here to a guest room... one with a window that opens and with real food. After that... we can proceed from there."_

_"You will?"_

_"Yes," he placed a hand over his heart. "I promise that I will ensure it done. Will you promise to tell the truth?"_

_Evelyn found tears rolling down her cheeks... a chance to be in a real room with a bed... with a window so that she could feel the breeze through her hair, the sun on her face. It was almost too good to be true. Even if the room had a locked door, it would still be better than the hell that she was caught in. _

_"Yes," she sobbed. "I will... I promise!"_

_"Very well then," he took a deep breath. "What are you?"_

_"I... I don't know," another tear rolled down her cheek at her helplessness. "I was just a regular girl... an average kid and then... one day... I went to sleep and woke up like this in your forests. I have no idea why I have wings- I don't even know if I can use them- and I have no idea how I arrived in Mirkwood."_

_Legolas frowned, but continued with his questions._

_"King Thranduil stated that you spoke of things that no child of man should know... how did you know about the occurrences of these woods?"_

_"I... well it's complicated." Evelyn paused and considered her options... perhaps he doubted her and needed proof. "Where I am from... your life... and the lives of many here are a story... a piece of fiction. Where I'm from... elves don't exist."_

_"Yet you knew who I was before you met me?"_

_"Yes! You're a really important character," she hesitated, afraid of giving away too much... but then again, what choice did she have? "Soon... I think... actually I don't really know when... but in the future you'll be called to Rivendell- Imladris for a council. I... I don't think that I should tell you what will happen... but it's important and you're really important there."_

_Legolas said nothing, his face going completely blank. As he gazed at her with a sharp and unreadable expression, Evelyn felt her apprehensions grow. Finally, he broke the silence. _

_"I see you liked the apple... I think I might have something else..."_

_As he spoke he dug though his pack until he came out with a small pastry. He handed the precious cargo to Evelyn who immediately devoured it. It was like a little hand pie of flakey crust with sweetened berries that burst in her mouth as little pockets of tart juice. Evelyn was so thrilled by her treat, that she didn't notice the grim and slightly stricken expression on Legolas' face until it was too late. _

_All of the sudden, she started to feel queasy. She found that her body was unable to fully support herself, and she went limp against the wall of her cell. Her head suddenly ached and she felt like her mouth was filled with cotton whilst a drummer was using the back of her eyes for practice. _

_"What-" she barely murmured. _

_"I will not tolerate lies from you, spawn of Sauron. A special brew to loosen your tongue might draw forth the truth."_

_"Please," she whispered, "I'm telling the truth!"_

_"Speak plainly and honestly. What are you?!"_

_"I don't know," she cried, the pain in her head and the situation was fraying on her already sensitive nerves. "I'm telling you the truth please! You promised!"_

_"Only the darkest creatures can resist the effects of this mixture."_

_"No! I'm telling the truth. You promised that you would let me out."_

_"You are a liar."_

_With those words, he turned and walked away. His footsteps were silent, but Evelyn swore that she could feel each one burning into her. He made a promise and then abandoned her. _

_For many hours... maybe days for she could not tell time in her state, she laid curled in a pitiful huddle on the floor. The cold seeped deep into her bones and forced her teeth to chatter, but the cool stone at least aided in cooling the raging fire in her head. After a while, the pain became worse and her entire body ached, her throat became sore and her nose swelled up. She supposed that whatever Legolas had given her affected her already weakened immune system enough for her to acquire a cold. _

_She was a miserable huddle for several more days, but eventually her body pulled through and, to her disappointment she woke up lucid. _

_After that she did not see Legolas again._

_He made a promise. _

_She believed him. _

_She decided that she should've known better..._

"Raven? Raven... Raven!" Glorfindel's shouting abruptly pulled Evelyn from the dark recesses of her mind that she had retreated to. "Raven... are you alright?"

"Memories."

"Oh," his face grew in concern. "I will not pretend to understand... and I will not ask of you to reveal that which you are not yet willing to tell... But I promise-"

"Promises to me have been broken before."

"Not this time," as he spoke he placed one hand over his heart and his other large, warm hand enveloped Evelyn's two smaller ones on her lap. "This promise, I make and I will keep."

Evelyn opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when he continued.

"Raven, I promise that I will stand by your side, that I will not allow harm to come to you."

"Your loyalty will always be with your kin... if Elrond wanted to..." she broke off, not even able to continue with the train of though for it lead her down a dark path. As a child she imagined Legolas and Thranduil as kind and noble figures... she was proved wrong. How could she be certain of Elrond?

"You've saved my life many times... more important, you saved my people. I owe you a debt greater than I can ever repay and I believe that our meetings are the will of the Valar. I promise that I will always stand for you."

Evelyn thought over his words... she considered the sincerity with which he said them, the shining in his eyes, and the kindness and concern that was practically oozing from him. She had made the mistake of trusting too freely before... but perhaps she could try again... one last time.

With tears sliding down her cheeks, Evelyn nodded her head. Glorfindel's smile was bright enough to light up the entire valley as he grasped her hand tighter, wrapping both if his hands around hers and bringing them to his lips. He brushed a chaste kiss across her knuckles and held her for several moments as if overcome with emotion. Eventually, his bliss cooled enough so that he could drip a few droplets of Miruvor into the flask which he gave Evelyn to drink.

With a bit of weariness and a hint of hesitation, Evelyn slowly sipped at the liquid. To her great surprise and delight, the drink was sweet and instantly filled her with a sense of warmth and invigoration. She could almost feel the liquid easing her sore, undressed and overworked muscles as tension flowed from her spine. Seeing the effect it was having on Evelyn, Glorifndel smiled and Evelyn found herself grinning as well.

"I suppose that I could accept some medication if you were to supervise Elrond as he makes it..."

"I will watch Lord Elrond and hover about him like an eagle, though I can also assure you that he wishes only for you to get well."

Evelyne nodded and, after a few more minutes of rest, they proceeded to walk back to Evelyn's room. Though Glorfindel departed after to attend to his duties as Captain of the Guard, Evelyn occupied her time with reading the various volumes brought to her by Glorfindel. She found great delight in the poetry with Common translations and was fascinated by the histories of Middle Earth. So much she was familiar with from having read the Silmarillion, but so much more was also new and fascinating to view from the perspective of the elves.

Reading did however, bring back memories of her past. Late that night, whilst Evelyn was snuggled up beside Nightshade reading, Evelyn found herself crying silently... the feeling of warmth and a the crinkling of pages of a book was all too familiar. It reminded her of home... of her parents... her friends... and even the college that she was all set to travel to. She lost so much... she doubted that she would ever see it again.


	25. Chapter 25

Elladan and Elrohir had just recently returned from another rotation with the guard. They had been sent out rather immediately after this strange "Raven's" arrival in Imladris as they held no fondness for the one who held their Adar at the tip of a poisoned dagger. However, their times spent away gave both brothers time to think and to contemplate the maiden who now occupied a room in their family wing of the Last Homely House.

Raven saved the life of their friend and mentor... according to him she also saved the survivors of Gondolin. Even after Glorfindel was safe in Imladris, she hung around the boarders to protect them from orcs... And, even after Elladan royally screwed up by shouting at her as she hid... she still saved their lives yet again. Even if she was suspicious and oftentimes furious at them, they owed her a great deal.

Upon their return home of course, their father gave them a full debriefing on her condition, recovery, and topics of conversation which tended to cause her to lash out. He was rather strict with instructions to leave her alone and allow her to heal. He did not want the twins anywhere near this mysterious girl as no one was certain if she was dangerous. Of course, being the responsible adult elves far past their majority that they were... they promptly ignored his orders.

Both of the twins were skipping rather jovially down the corridor, a small sack thrown over Elrohir's shoulder as the younger twin's brow creased with the first hint of hesitancy.

"Elladan... are you sure about this?"

"Of course."

"You know that Ada-"

"What Ada doesn't know won't hurt him," he reassured with a mischievous smirk on his lips.

As the pair turned the corner, they spotted their intended target. She was still not allowed to bear full weight on her injured ankle, but she apparently often walked the halls leaning heavily upon her wolf. It appeared that the maiden had also taken to wearing a cloak of dark red, covering her folded wings. The pair were making a slow loop down the corridor and Elladan called to her the moment she spotted them.

"Raven, correct?"

"The twins," she glared at them with a decently unamused expression.

"I see out reputation proceeds us," Elladan gripped his brother's arm and pulled the both of them before her. Once she was forced to stop walking and lean against her massive wolf, both brothers bowed low at the waist with Elladan throwing in an over-exaggerated gesture with his arm. "We are the Sons of Lord Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir. We regret that we neglected to thank you for saving our patrol, and we seek to rectify that this day."

Elrohir rolled his eyes at his brother's dramatics and instead offered a kind smiled as he unwrapped the bundle that he carried. From the plain sack he bore forth a pair of glittering elvish short swords, a lean but well cared for bow, a quiver of fine black arrows, a small array of knives, and a well worn traveler's pack.

They watched at Raven's eyes, as shockingly bright as Glorfindel described them, grew wide, clear desire and want in them. However, instead of rushing forth to claim her items which were confiscated since her arrival in Imladris, she turned to the twins with a gaze laden with suspicion.

"Your father trusts me with my weapons?"

"No," Elladan cheekily replied before Elrohir could get a word in. The younger elbowed the elder sharply.

"What he means to say is that while he did not technically authorize us to return your items... he did not expressly forbid it."

"You'd think after all these years he'd remember to do so."

"Ah, but he thinks that we've grown."

"Foolish of him."

"And really entirely his fault."

Raven seemed to relax as the twins bickered away, eventually reaching forward and first strapping her twin swords to a belt beneath her cloak. She then reached for her bow and the little bag that the twins had definitely _not_ snooped in. Before she could grab her quiver however, Ellrohir drew forth one of the arrows, holding it to the light.

"Fine pieces of craft," he remarked as he watched the light from the hall window shine upon the obsidian arrowheads. "You've burned the shaft?"

"The darkness makes them harder to detect in flight and I use cedar wood. Burning hardens the exterior and makes them last longer."

"Fascinating," Elrohir continued his inspection of the arrow. Being an archer himself, he was thoroughly impressed with the clear amount of care and effort that went into crafting those arrows. "I've never seen fletchings like these before." He remarked as he ran his fingers along the black feathers lining the shaft. They were cut with a rounded edge, long and low to the shaft.

"The cut keeps them silent, and the length... well I suppose that you've never seen a bird that bears them," a slight smirk appeared on Raven's face as one wing peeked its way out of her cloak, revealing the shining black primary feathers that obviously fletched her arrows.

Before Elladan could do something stupid like attempt to touch her wing, the appendage retracted back into her cloak and the smile faded. She seemed to be scanning between the twins, mind attempting to form the words necessary. Before she could however, Elladan plucked the arrow from Elrohir's hands and deposited it into the quiver now strapped to Raven's thigh.

"Come along now, I know you're not quite up for walking, but Glorfindel claims that you ride your wolf."

"Where are we going?"

"Why to the archery fields of course."

"You've just got your bow back,"

"And I'm rather certain-"

"That you want to fire at least a few rounds."

"Getting back into-"

"The swing of things-"

"As they say."

Raven was watching them with a strange expression on her face, blinking rapidly as they completed each other's sentences. In actuality, they didn't speak like that often. However, they knew how jarring they could be when one was first meeting them and thus often enjoyed speaking as such when meeting someone new. It was their own private game.

"No one will be out there," Elrohir, always the kinder one, spoke gently when he saw Raven's hesitancies.

Eventually, after a few moments of awkward silence where she seemed to stare intently at her wolf, Raven agreed and climbed atop her great beast, the pair of them following close behind the twins. Elladan and Elrohir both did their best to pretend to not be concerned with a massive wolf, who they swore was glaring at their backs, following behind them. Elladan attempted a slight peek back and was met with a low growl causing him to quickly turn his head forward.

_"This is worse than the time Estel brought home that stray mutt."_

_"Having him beg Ada to keep it whilst crying so he couldn't refuse was your idea," _Elrohir hissed back.

_"How was I supposed to know the thing would grow to his shoulder and nip at everyone who so much as looked at him wrong?"_

_"Erestor still blames you."_

_"He blames me for everything. Besides... that one is so large, it makes Estel's dog look like a pup."_

Before Elrohir could reply, they reached their destination of a small, secluded archery range that only the twins ever used to practice. Once, it had been their secret training field where they snuck away from their father to train with Glorfindel before Elrond had deemed them old enough to learn. After he discovered their secret... and allowed them to continue despite his initial displeasure, it had become a haven for them; late at night when they were young and fought with their father, after particularly difficult patrols when they just needed to unwind, when the pressures of being future leaders of Imladris wore too heavily on their souls, and when their mother left on her journey to sail for Valinor... the twins took out their frustrations on the well worn, hard packed soil. They clashed swords until the elvish steel threatened to buckle and released arrow after arrow into the target until they were forced to fetch new sackings to cover the frayed straw.

The small training field and range was the only place in all of Imladris where no-one, not even their father, disturbed them. It was their sanctuary which they now shared with Raven.

The expression on the girl's face though, was worth the breech. She was gazing at the target and the bow in her hand with hand awe and half delight. Her entire face lit up, and both the girl and wolf inhaled deeply in delight. Before Elrohir could offer to move the target a bit closer, for it was at the distance that he usually practiced at, the young maiden drew and arrow from her quiver, knocked her bow, and released it right from where she sat on her wolf's back.

The arrow, as she implied, flied with almost complete silence before embedding itself barely a hairsbreadth away from the dead center. The girl frowned.

"My aim's a bit off."

"If that's what you call a bit off," Elladan exhaled in surprise. "Then I'd hate to be at the other end of your bow."

In truth, Elladan already _knew_ that he didn't want to be on the receiving end of Raven's anger. As with his brother, he too had flipped through the journal enclosed in the girl's traveling bag. The journal was filled with over a hundred pages of scribbles, some impossible to understand due to the strange words used, some utter nonsense as it was written in a bizarre code, but some of the pages were unmistakable. Some were filled with anatomical drawings painfully correct, detailing the insides of giant spiders, orcs, goblins, men, and even elves. There were notes written in the margins of these drawings, or sometimes entire sections on how to best kill the creatures. Elladan remembered with a shudder how precise and exact the wounds on those orcs wound dead along the boarders of Imladris were, how few wounds it took for this slim girl to take down hulking beasts.

He couldn't imagine how she had obtained such knowledge in killing... and despite his often curious nature... he didn't think that he wanted to know.

Instead, he watched as his brother drew forth his own bow and stood beside Raven. The pair went shot for shot for some time, each occasionally giving corrections or pointers to the other. Elladan was amazed with how accurate and skilled the maiden was. Their father had claimed that she was mortal, but the way she moved, the way she shot... was anything but.

Either way, Elladan contented himself with simply watching until his brother deemed it time for them to take a break for lunch. Elrohir unpacked the remaining items in the bag that he carried to reveal a light picnic lunch, complete with a skin of juice as they were informed that Raven flatly refused wine. They ate in pleasant silence until Raven was the first to open the conversation.

"If you're an archer whilst your brother is not, Elrohir," both twins were mildly surprised that she addressed the correct one. "Then why is it that you and your brother share the same braids?"

"Technically we are both trained in the bow and the saber," he gestured to the notches on both their belts where their swords would sit if they were using them. "I often take up the bow when we venture out together, but if war were to come, we would both march with the other sword-elves."

"I couldn't help but notice that your braids indicate a wielder of the Lhang," Elladan attempted to sound as casual as possible. "Glorfindel and very few others among the ancient Eldar still wield the weapon... but you do not. Is there a reason you wear it thusly?"

She didn't respond to that, merely waiting for Elrohir to take the hint and start a new topic of discussion which he did much to Elladan's disappointment. For a while longer, they ate their lunch, Raven's wolf only occasionally glaring at them. Once they finished their meal, they returned to shooting with a promise to spar once they knew that their Ada would not murder them for exasperating her still healing wounds.

When they went to return Raven to her room, they were met at her door with a frowning Lord Elrond holding an already cooled tea meant for her to take to speed the healing of her bones in her ankle and wing. Despite his intimidating glare, both twins grinned cheekily for Raven had a rosy flush to her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes that had not been there the day before. Their father might be angry at them, but he knew as well as they did that what the twins did was good for her.

They promised to return and fetch her for shooting again soon before scampering off to hide until their father would be drawn away by other tasks to worry about.

* * *

"May I call you Elenya?" Glorfindel asked suddenly one day whilst they were riding on the far end of the valley. While Evelyn was healing nicely, her wing was still not healed enough to be removed from the bindings, but she was growing restless. Thus, Glorfindel had somehow convinced Elrond to take her out riding through the valley and Evelyn had flat out refused a horse. Nightshade was more than capable of carrying her and it had taken her but a few seconds to call Glorfindel's stallion when her wolf nearly spooked the poor horse.

"Why?" she replied, suddenly realizing that she had allowed the silence to drag on for too long.

"Raven isn't your real name, correct?"

She turned and gave him a look that she had not done in quite some time. It was her "are you really as stupid as you sound right now?" look and she couldn't recall the last time that she was carefree enough to do so. Glorfindel chuckled, reading her expression perfectly and continuing in his explanation.

"Well if I'm calling you by a name that isn't yours, I think Elenya is far more fitting. It's the name I called you for all those years since Gondolin."

Evelyn couldn't help but notice that she barely flinched now when Glorfindel brought up the ancient city and her short time spent there. She was still haunted by her nightmares, but Glorfindel was constantly bringing it up in the most casual manner that she was beginning to accept it, if only slightly.

"What did it mean again?"

"Celestial one."

Evelyn bit back a snort and continued to ride, eventually releasing a sigh.

"Call me what you will. I care not."

"Alright, Elenya," he smiled so brightly that Evelyn had to turn her head to avoid smiling. Glorfindel seemed to take that as a victory and a cue to continue talking and so he did.

Lately, as asking Evelyn questions did not often go well, he had taken to telling her stories and tales of Arda's history. This time, he launched into the story of Beren and Luthien, a tale which he did not know that Evelyn already familiar with. Due to this, she found her mind wandering until Glorfindel took notice and prodded her gently with a request.

"If tales of ancient love can't draw your interest, then what tales do you favor?"

Evelyn smiled wryly as she recalled the many books and stories that she had read. While she could obviously not begin spiking out The Lord of the Rings, she also couldn't quite launch into Star Trek with her current audience. _Though it would be fun to watch Glorfindel's reaction to Spock and the Enterprise... _Instead though, the only tales that she could recall, aside from fairy tales that were either too gruesome or too filled with damsels in distress, were the stories passed on to her by her grandpa.

"I doubt my Grandfather's stories would be of interest to you," she mused aloud, ignoring the comment from Nightshade who suggested she tell him the tale of Fenrir, the wolf who would swallow the sun. She was beginning to regret telling Nightshade the myth several years ago and was glad that wolf couldn't be understood by anyone else for all the elves that had encountered her were already terrified enough by her claws and teeth.

"Then what of your Grandfather? He sounds like an interesting man... an Edain who tells myths that you deem similar to those of the Eldar."

"I don't know if I'd call them similar to elvish myths... more so tales of ghosts and sprites... fairies who could supposedly carry off children in the night to raise amongst the fay-folk. He had Irish blood in his veins and he always swore that his tales were truer than any other religion's preachings."

"You knew him well?"

"Yes," Evelyn recalled the many nights she spent curled up with him by the fireside as he told her stories. She was the only one in her family who enjoyed listening to him ramble on and on about the fay. His house had no tv, so he was always the best source of entertainment there. She repressed a tear threatening to slip from her eye as she realized that she would likely never see him again. "Whenever my parents had to leave for work, I would always stay at his place and he would tell me stories to pass the time."

"And your Grandmother?"

"I never knew her."

"I'm sorry."

"Neither did my father," she shrugged lightly, continuing when she saw Glorfindel's confused expression. "One of my Grandfather's favorite tales... He swears, up and down, that he fell in love with the most beautiful woman in the world... a member of the fay folk."

"Fay folk?"

"Fairies," Evelyn chuckled slightly. It never failed to amuse her to recall the way her Grandfather always knew how to cheer her up. One day, when she was in the first grade, she came home crying, sobbing her eyes out for another boy in the class made fun of her for not having a grandma to bake cookies and cook family dinners. Her Grandfather, never one to accept tears, swept up Evelyn's tiny form before her parents could say anything and launched into a tale about how she didn't have a grandma because her _real _grandma was magical. He claimed that she was a member of the Fay.

"Whenever I was upset," Evelyn explained, "he would make up stories to make me feel better. If I got lost on my way home... the will-o-the-whisps lead me astray and it wasn't my fault. If I was scared by a thunderstorm, it was just the Sidhe playing games outside... And when I was sad about not having a grandma... it was because he never fell in love with a woman, but a member of the Fay."

Glorfindel smiled and Evelyn was put so at ease with telling stories about her Grandpa that she continued, talking more than she had to anyone saw Nightshade in quite some time.

"He told me that my grandma was more beautiful than any woman that walked the earth, that they fell in love and she disappeared into the night... that nine months later my father was delivered to him in a basket with a love note promising that she would return one day."

"Did she ever?" Glorfindel asked, eyes so eager that Evelyn couldn't help but laugh.

"No," she chuckled. "It was a story just like any other. He never told me the truth, but I suspect that either my father was adopted or, more likely, he fell in love with one of the wild bohemian types that frequented the part of New York where he went to college. He always had too big of a heart to say no to a child and thus became a single father while still young."

"It's a good story though."

"Yes, a good story indeed. He always had the right story for any occasion." Evelyn paused for a moment of somber silence. "I miss his stories," she admitted in a whisper. Glorfindel was silent in contemplation for a short time.

"Then I shall endeavor to tell you more. I do not have his stories... but I do have centuries worth of elvish tales. You will certainly find some of interest."

Evelyn offered him a small smile as they continued back to Imladris in silence.

When they reached Imladris, Glorfindel remained at the stables to wipe down Asfaloth before going on to a training session that he had with his guards. In the meantime, Evelyn decided to take a walk through the gardens and was pleasantly surprised to only be leaning slightly on Nightshade. Her ankle was healing well and it wouldn't be long before she was able to remove the splint. She never thought that she would miss running so much.

After a few laps, Evelyn and Nightshade took a break by the side of a fountain where they remained in silence for a little while until a rustling sounded from down one of the more overgrown paths.

_"It's the stern-one" _Nightshade informed Evelyn who silently thanked the wolf with a pat on the head.

He was softly humming a tune which Evelyn, to her surprise, recognized. She had never heard it lung aloud, but she had read the lines enough times to imagine what they would sound like- to envision the beauty of such a song set to an elvish melody.

"_The Sundering Seas between them lay,  
And yet at last they met once more,  
And long ago they passed away  
In the forest singing sorrowless._"

She finished the song alongside is cool, clear voice which fell silent as the last notes fell from her lips. Before long, a pair of grey eyes poked through the nearby path and Aragorn smiled warmly upon spotting her. He gestured to the spot beside Evelyn and she gave an unconcerned shrug... welcome enough for him to accept the spot next to her.

"You've heard the tale before?"

"Indeed."

"Tell me then, Raven of Gondolin and the wilds... what does it mean to you?"

Evelyn cocked her head to the side in thought. She and Aragorn had come to an understanding over the past weeks. He knew that she knew far more than she would ever let on, but was also wary about both the past and future. She knew that he was curious about her past and thirsted for knowledge about the future. Thus, he would poke and inquire, but she would drop firm boundaries that when placed, he would not overstep. This was one inquiry which she would allow.

"I think that it is a pretty tale... one of blood that runs through Lady Arwen's veins."

"So then you know?"

"Yes."

They lapsed into silence and Aragorn likely contemplated how Evelyn knew of things kept so carefully secret from Imladris whilst Evelyn asked herself why she was interfering when she knew that she shouldn't. But then again... _what harm can a love that is destined to happen have?_

"Have you informed Lord Elrond yet?"

"No. Do you think it will go well?"

"Do you?" she shot back, eyebrows raised in questioning.

"That bad then?" he mused. Evelyn chuckled lightly, glad that as the only other human present, Aragorn was capable of understanding her particular brand of dark sarcasm.

"It will be bad... but not impossible."

Aragorn nodded in understanding, eventually moving to take his leave. He thanked Evelyn and walked off, obviously having gotten the information that he wanted.

_"You're playing a dangerous game," _Nightshade warned.

_"I know..."_

_"He is too much like the pup-slayers."_

_"But you like him."_

_"Yes."_

_"Then why do you say such things?"_

_"I'm afraid for you."_

Evelyn nodded in understanding. She was indeed playing a dangerous game with these elves... she could only hope that she wouldn't come to regret it.


	26. Chapter 26

_Cold_

_Dark_

_Silent_

There was noting but grey walls and darkness all around, the air was chilly and yet bore no freshness to lighten her burden.

_Trapped_

_Alone_

The cell seemed to shrink and grow around her, how long she was there she knew not... days and nights blend when there is no sunlight to be seen. It felt like ages since she last felt the sun, since the grass last tickled through her toes, since the wind last blew through her hair.

She swore that she was suffocating, that the darkness had finally cracked through her mind and that she was soon to succumb to madness. It was all around her, pressing her from all sides and she couldn't escape it. She held no power over the darkness, the solitude, the eerie droplets of water trickling down a stalagmite in the distance. Her heart was racing, her mind falling blank as panicked overcame her. She began to do the only thing that she could.

She beat herself against the walls, slamming into the cold and unforgiving stone, she took some wretched delight in the way that it scraped her skin, bruised her bones, made her bleed. She relished the pain for it was something, it was something to occupy her mind beside the voices creeping into her head and the darkness pressing down on her, restricting her chest like a vice.

She screamed in agony as her knuckles split and blood poured out, the sharp pain reminding her that she still had a body, that she wasn't a ghost left to rot alone and unmourned.

_"Nightwing!"_

There was a voice, a voice calling to her... what name was that?

_"Nightwing! Stop!"_

The voice was yelling at her, ordering her to stop. _How strange... usually the voices tell me to split my head... that bashing my skull is the only way to allow them to escape. Maybe I should try that this time. _

_"Nightwing! You're safe! You're not there. I'm here."_

Suddenly, she found a heaviness overtaking her, a weight that pushed down on her chest, but it wasn't the same crushing of the dark... it was warm.

_"Awaken, Nightwing. You are free from that place."_

The hands of darkness were clawing at her, pulling her back into the dark of the cell. They were tugging at her arms, pulling on her ankles, her hair... they were dragging her back.

_Pain... it's the only way to be here, to be alive, to be REAL._

_"Nightwing STOP! I'm here. You are NOT alone. Remember! We do not fear the dark, it is the cloak that hides us from them!"_

Suddenly, the weight on her chest was familiar and Evelyn awoke with a start. She was greeted with pale moonlight and a warm tongue lapping at her face. It took a few second for her breathing to calm and for her racing heart to slow enough for her to remember where she was. Looking up, she found the worried eyes of Nightshade staring back at her.

_"Thank you, my friend," _she whispered to the wolf in the way that only they could speak.

_"You are hurt," _the wolf whispered back, lapping gently at the backs of Evelyn's hands.

The girl took a moment to examine her knuckles. She had split three on her right hand, one on her left. The blood seemed bright in the small amount of moonlight filtering in from the window where it was speared across the elegantly carved wooden bed frame. Several of her fingernails were torn, and she could see where deep gouges laid on the headboard as it seemed that she mistook it for the walls of her cell... again.

Evelyn sighed and fell backwards, Nightshade still sitting on her chest where she would bear down with weight as a way of waking Evelyn when she fell into such nightmares. She allowed the wolf to tend to her hands, licking the wounds until the bleeding slowed to a sluggish trickle. As usual, Evelyn reached down to the old bedsheet that she had stolen several weeks ago, ripping off a strip of fabric and tying it across both knuckles. She then absentmindely stroked Nightshade's soft underfur, far too away to even hope of sleeping any more that night.

"_I need to get out_," she whispered. _"I need to use my wings, to feel the wind once more."_

_"Then go."_

Evelyn looked at Nightshade in surprise. Usually the wolf was oft to scold her for not resting enough... but perhaps Elrond's healing potions had done their task... perhaps she was more healed than she thought. But, Nightshade rose and moved from Evelyn's chest, sitting herself next to the girl and waiting patiently.

With a new sense of resolution, Evelyn sat up and reached for her wounded wing with her dagger. In a moment of utter satisfaction, she felt the sharp blade slice through the sling and her wing remained dutifully in place as she divested herself of the rest of the bandaging. A slow smile spread across her face as she slowly extended the wing, relish the stretch that she had not felt in so long. A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as she rolled her shoulders and relished the way both her wings moved freely.

_"I'll just be gone a little while... just to feel the wing again. Behave?"_

_"I'll try to avoid eating the pup-slayers," _Nightshade replied wryly and Evelyn just smiled.

She gave the wolf one last grateful scratch under the chin before she slipped out the door and threw herself from the first window that she found. She opened her wings wide as she fell, relishing the slight burn in her newly healed wing as it caught the wind, lifting her upwards and toward the sky, the wind, and freedom.

* * *

Nightshade found herself pacing the corridors. She understood that Nightwing needed to fly, that she needed the freedom that it granted her, but she was worried. Usually she would never encourage her person to do something as reckless as flying so soon after an injury... but the pup-slayers had good medicine and her nightmares had become more frequent since taking up residence in Imladris. Her friend needed the freedom of flight and so she encouraged her to go.

Now the problem was the Nightshade was dreadfully bored and had nothing to do. She was pacing up and down, waiting for Nightwing to return when she heard a pair of voices... it was the grumpy-one and the healer-one. They seemed to be having some sort of a disagreement. Nightshade slid closer to the laying down and leaning agains the wall so that she blended in with the shadows.

"Do you think she will leave then... if she is almost healed."

"It would break Glorfindel's heart."

"I know... Are you aware that he's taken to calling her Elenya?"

"I am. Does that upset you?"

"That's not her name?!"

"Neither is Raven. But, Elenya is who he remembers, who he hopes for her to be."

"It's not who she is. There is something wrong with her. Surly you must feel it my Lord."

"I admit... there is something about her..." there was a sigh and the voice continued. "I cannot place my finger on it, but she is more than she appears."

"Doesn't that make her dangerous?"

"Of course, by that logic then Lady Galadriel is dangerous as well."

"She is."

"Fair enough... In truth I am concerned, but we must proceed with caution. I think she fears more than anything."

"Isn't that when a creature is most dangerous? When it is afraid."

"And so we shall be gentle. I don't think she knows herself."

"But her eyes, my Lord."

"I am well aware," the voice grew with a harsh edge that made Nightshade's ears twitch.

"You've seen things," the tone was somewhere between an accusation and worry, Nightshade was growing worried as well.

"Many... I know not which are yet true... but she is so much more..."

As the conversation drew to a close Nightshade slipped down the hall, back towards the room that she and Nightwing shared. They were talking about her person... she knew it. When Nightwing returned, she would have to tell her what she heard... what she now knew.

* * *

Evelyn tried her best to suppress a yawn as she followed Glorfindel. She still wore a cloak to cover her wings and thus he had yet to take notice that she removed her bandaging. Thankfully, he also did not notice the new ones that graced the backs of her hands. She was following the maddeningly cheerful elf as he rambled on about how excited she would be when they arrived at their destination. He had come to collect her from her chambers when the sun had just barely touched the horizon. Between her nightmare, midnight flight, and long conversation with Nightshade after she had hardly gotten a wink of sleep.

Now, she was trailing behind Glorfindel who nimble turned and continued to walk backwards, never breaking stride as he chattered on and on about how excited he was. Usually, Evelyn was not one overly fond of surprises... however she figured that she could make an acceptation from Glorfindel. As they walked along, she did her best to ignore the dull throb in her hands and to push the nightmares away. Nightshade gently prodded the palm of her hand, a kind reminder that she was still there.

"So Elenya," Glorfindel suddenly stopped when they were several feet away from a medium sized building placed just up a set of stairs. "I'm going to introduce you to an old friend of mine, Dammorion." Before Evelyn could protest he continued. "Now he doesn't know anything about you, and you don't have to socialize if you do not wish it... but, I can promise that he won't ask questions."

"Why?"

"You'll see!" A large grin slips his face as Glorfindel encouraged Evelyn to climb the stairs with him. Her ankle had recently been removed from the splint and so she was able to climb the steps well enough with only minimal assistance from Nightshade. Evelyn knew that Glorfindel was purposefully moving slowly so as to allow her to take the stairs with care on her ankle, but she still felt rather satisfied that she made it up them at a decent pace.

"Dammorion!" The too cheery elf cried as another elf, this one with straight, dark hair and a smudge of grease on his cheek stepped forward. The new elf nodded briefly to greet Evelyn before turning his attention to Glorfindel who continued to chatter away. "So this is the friend that I mentioned..."

"How can I be of service?" He asked Evelyn politely.

Evelyn froze... she didn't know what to do. The elf in front of her seemed friendly... but looks could be deceiving. He wore an old and stained tunic of thick burlap with a slightly beige color. The elf was not quite so tall as Glorfindel, but his shoulders were broad and his muscles were visible through the folds of his tunic in a way that Evelyn had never seen an elf develop.

"Dammorion is the finest smith in Imladris," Glorfindel, still beaming like a child who has just won a footrace declared. "Anything you want! New arrow heads, new blades, new knives... anything at all he can create for you!" When Evelyn continued to give the elf a blank look he further explained. "Remember... remember that time I told you that I would take you to a smithy in Imladris... I promised that I would get you anything that you asked for."

Evelyn didn't quite know what to say. Very vaguely... she recalled a conversation where Glorfindel had promised just that... but he spent so much time rambling while they were in that cave that she had tuned most of it out.

Dammorion, sensing her hesitation smiled as he stepped backward, allowing them better access to what was obviously his showcase or selling room. The entire room was filled with shelves stacked with swords, knives, daggers, arrows, and all manner of contraptions. There was even a table filled with small hair ornaments made of twisted metal.

"Perhaps if you are unsure, I can view whatever blades you currently carry?" he offered gently. "Do you..." he hesitated slightly before continuing, "carry a Lhang?"

Evelyn remembered her braids and what they would mean to most elves. She didn't know how to respond and so just shook her head before pulling forth the twin blades that she kept strapped to her belt beneath her cloak. She handed them over without fear of them being recognized as she had long ago scraped off the elvish inscription along the blade's edge and even longer ago replaced the leather bindings on the handle.

The smith took the blades with great care and examined them thoroughly. He checked their edge, felt their weight, swinging them both through the air a few times to feel the way he moved. Finally, he paused his inspection and returned his attention to Evelyn and Glorfindel, shaking his head slightly.

"My my my... these are all wrong." He seemed a bit dismayed by the chips that had developed in the blades over time. "Silvan make no doubt... they'll get the job done, sure... but these aren't built to last. See here," he pointed to a tiny, dark spot near the handle of the blade. "This is a contaminating metal. I'm not sure what it is... but if something got in it during the forge that wasn't burned out... either their forge wasn't hot enough or they're mixing the wrong sorts of metals." He further went on to point out another few spots, becoming more flustered with each one. "Also, the size is wrong for you, if you'll excuse me saying my lady. These blades are too wide and weighted too much in the center. They are meant for an Ellon. You need a bit more weight at the tip and less in the middle to get a proper swing going. Would you mind?"

He held out a piece of string and Evelyn realized that he was asking for permission to take her measurements. She nodded stiffly and stood with her arms outstretched, allowing the strange elf to bustle about her, measuring her arms, torso, shoulder, wrist, palm, and even fingers. She swore that the majority of these were unnecessary to forge a blade, but she decided to humor Glorfindel this once.

Dammorion then made a series of scribbles on a piece of parchment before interrogating Evelyn on her favored shapes and uses for blades. Apparently, the answer of "whatever is sharp works" was not correct and he insisted on finding the perfect blades for her needs. In the end, he settled on a few designs which he promised to sketch out whilst he sent her to browse the sample arrowheads on a shelf. Glorfindel insisted that she get a set of special, custom arrowheads.

"Is this... expensive?" she asked, suddenly struck by the thought that this private meeting with the smith was likely not so common.

"Exorbitantly so," Dammorion replied, not looking up from the paper that he was scribbling away at.

"It's no matter!" Glorifndel declared cheerfully. "I have years worth of salary saved and very few needs. This is far less than I could ever owe you."

Evelyn, figuring it not worth the effort, returned to examining the arrowheads. They were beautiful pieces, polished and shining... each one as decorated with etched patterns and engravings that she couldn't read. They looked like tiny pieces of art.

In the end, she selected a cross between a tri-pointed star arrowhead, and a leaf-spear shape. Glorfindel placed an order for 40 arrowheads as he assure Evelyn that some are always inevitably lost and thus she should have extras, a new pair of twin blades, two daggers, and a series of small throwing daggers that Dammorion assured her would fit her hand perfectly. All this Glofindel absolutely insisted on purchasing, handing the smith several sacks of what Evelyn could only assume to be gold, before they left the building.

On their way back to the main house, Evelyn and Nightshade both fell silent as they listened to Glorifndel's happy chatter about his plans for three evening hence. Apparently, he had plans for a nighttime picnic, that way they could visit the Bruinen when no one would be there. Evelyn, only half heartedly paid attention and nodded in agreement. Without the distraction of the wonders of the smithy, her mind was drawn back towards her nightmare and what Nightshade had told her after.

Right when they arrived at Evelyn's door, Glorfindel hesitated a moment.

"Elenya..." he fumbled, reaching into his pale green tunic and pulling forth a small bundle. "I must admit... that I had this piece commissioned when I first returned to Imladris from your care. I hope that you will accept this now... as a token of my friendship."

He handed the little pouch to Evelyn who carefully opened it, dumping the contents onto her palm. On her hand sat a gold hair clip. She brought it closer to her face and found a beautiful scene wrought into the gold. It was a golden flower, the symbol of Glorfindel's ancient house, and bore several chains made of finely woven mithril from which hung golden feathers. Evelyn found herself smiling, the tiny, shining piece of jewelry suddenly felt like so much more. She thanked Glorifndel for the gift and used the clip to pull her braids to the back of her head.

She slipped into her room, followed close behind by Nightshade as Glorfindel was off to his duties as Captain. Aragorn would not be stopping by that day as he apparently had to prepare for a guest, thus leaving Evelyn with the rest of the day to herself. Once alone however, she finally had a chance to think. Nightshade's discovery concerned Evelyn deeply.

If Elrond and Erestor thought her a threat... which they were right to think... then perhaps it was coming on time for her to leave. Despite the hesitant trust that she had in Glorfindel and the twins, she was not willing to put so much faith in elves... especially not suspicious ones. It was after all, a suspicion which placed her in a mess to begin with.

More concerning yet... was what Elrond had seen. She knew that he held the gift of foresight... but she also knew that the gift was treacherous and could present falsehoods as easily as truths. If he saw something that he didn't like though... how would he act? Did he know of her dreams?

_"We need to do something," _Nightshade warned.

_"I know... can we trust him?"_

_"The healer-one?"_

_"Yes."_

_"I don't know... I think he seeks what you know."_

_"That's what I'm afraid of... I cannot give him what he wants."_

Evelyn's mind was briefly pulled back to the throne room of Mirkwood... to Thranduil's voice as smooth as silk and deadly as steel... stalking her like a she was prey. He asked questions, demanded answers, and she had none for him. Now, the elves of Imladris were becoming too comfortable around her. They too would soon demand answers... answers that she couldn't give... and she wasn't sure what the consequences of such would be.

* * *

"Lorien!" a rather furious voice called out, soft footsteps echoing along the corridor.

"Ah, Yavanna... how may I assist you," his voice was slightly strained as he wilted beneath the glare of the Giver of Fruits.

"Why? Why must you plague the child so?! Has she not been through enough?!"

"It is out of my control."

"Speak plainly."

"What is the meaning of this?" Varda, looked between her fellow Valar, a decently unimpressed expression on her face.

"I must agree with Yavanna," Nienna, Lady of Mercy, stepped forward.

"What are we agreeing on?" Varda looked between the three feuding parties.

"I fear a coldness is settling in the child... I fear that memories plague her with too much pain... I am not sure how well she can continue. There is ice creeping in her soul." Nienna's voice was filled with worry, and the other Valar all blanched. The child was too important to their plans to fall to darkness and if the Lady of Mercy feared that one would fall... they would take her fears incredibly seriously.

"And the nightmares further this?" Varda asked. It was Yavanna who replied with a nod this time. "Then you must cease them, Lorien. As Master of Dreams it is surly in your power. I know of the rules of interfering... but this is a time when it is appropriate." The Queen of the Stars spoke gently, but with steel behind her voice.

"I wish that I could stop the nightmares... end the hauntings weighing down on her soul... but I cannot," Lorien's voice fell to a whisper of despair. "She is not... she is not within the range of my control. I cannot interfere to her mind... it blocks me out."

Yavanna grew pale, raising a shaking hand to her forehead she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"If the nightmares continue, if she finds no relief," Varda questioned slowly. "Which path will she take?"

The look that Lorien gave was enough to shake the faith of all the Valar present. There was a silence which demented upon the scene, a silence that was dark and nervous.

"We must rely on the Golden Lord," Yavanna spoke softly.

"And if he fails?" came the reply from Varda.

"Then I know not if Eru will intervene," Nienna replied.


	27. Chapter 27

Nightshade was ambling along the corridor, Nightwing by her side as they searched for the healer-one who they wished to talk to. Nightwing had already taken those pesky bandages off her wing and was ready to leave... but she had some things to discuss first. Neither forgot what Nightshade heard that night when she wandered near his office, and Nightwing wished to confront him. As they were walking along, Nightshade froze.

Nightwing froze beside her, seeing her tense and knowing something was wrong.

Nightshade lifted her nose, scenting the air...

_It can't be..._

_It is._

She wouldn't mistake that scent anywhere.

The memories were still fresh in her mind no matter the years that had passed.

The scent of pine wood, fir, and fresh loam. Aromas of warm milk, dry fur, and damp noses rudely slandered with the sharp, acrid scent of wolf blood... and him.

Howling in rage, Nightshade launched herself down the corridor, screaming obscenities that only Nightwing, hot on her tail, could understand.

_"Pup-Slayer! Murderer!"_

Her howls echoed through the halls of the dwelling place and she knew that the inhabitants all heard her, they heard her cries and she knew what type of terror that she inspired. She was running as she had not in years, Nightwing was trailing behind her, that same type of grim determination that she had wielded when she slaughtered orcs and spiders.

But Nightshade... oh Nightshade was furious beyond a level that she had ever encountered.

The last time she had met this Pup-Slayer, she was too young, too fragile to fight. Now she was ready and furious.

Beside her, Nightshade heard Nightwing frantically whispering, asking her to quiet her shouts for now their target knew that they were coming, but Nightwing was too fueled with fury for her kin to listen. She continued to howl, exclaiming her rage for all to hear.

_"Pup-Slayer! Come face me now! I am a pup no longer!"_

The corridor had a sharp corner up ahead. Throwing all caution to the wind, Nightshade raced around the edge, claws scrabbling for purchase on the smooth stone as she careened around the corner and came face to face with the wretched thing that once murdered her entire family.

He was standing, staring at her with shock. His mouth was half open and his traveling clothes still held traces of the mud.

Nightshade squared off at him, raising her haunches, baring her teeth, and releasing a growl that shook the very floor they stood on.

With a snarl she lept forward, claws extended and mouth open, ready to tear into the throat of the one arrogant enough to slay her family as they slept in their den, the liar who broke his promise to Nightwing, the one whose only name to Nightshade was Pup-Slayer.

* * *

Evelyn was racing after Nightshade as fast as her legs would carry her. She longed to be on the chase out in the open, where she could extend her wings and pump herself forward as there was no other way to keep up with the fleet legged wolf. She heard what Nightshade said, and she knew that her companion never forgot a smell.

He was here.

Legolas Thrandulion.

When she finally caught up, lungs screaming from the sudden sprint, she was struck still in shock. There before her, just as Nightshade said... it was him.

The straight, silver-blond hair, blue eyes wide with an emotion that she could not decipher- he was unmistakable. Like a waking nightmare, she saw herself in that little cell, her stomach growing ill on whatever poison he fed to her in the guise of a gift. His eyes turning icy as he spat accusations at her.

_Spawn of Sauron_

_You are a Liar!_

Her breath was coming in short quick gasps, her heart was thundering in her chest, and yet she remained frozen. Fight or flight... but she could do neither.

Nightshade was not so hesitant however. While Legolas had lied to, poisoned, and broken a promise to Evelyn... he had slayed Nightshade's family in their den. He was the reason why Nightshade despised al elves and called them pup-slayers... he was the reason for her being an orphan.

Before Evelyn could will herself to move, Nightshade lept at the elf- teeth bared and claws extended.

Then, in a moment that felt as if it moved in slow motion, and yet too quickly for Evelyn to even think to move, the elf drew forth his bow, nocked an arrow, and shot Nightshade mid leap.

The wolf crumbled to the ground.

An arrow protruded from her chest.

Evelyn was staring at her... as if still in that dream... that waking nightmare.

Nightshade was on the floor, breath labored, mouth opened in a half formed pant, the arrow protruding from an angle that left nothing to the imagination... it had pierced her heart.

_She's dying_

_He killed her_

It was as if that act, the sight of the arrow piercing the heart of her closest friend, her one companion, her champion against nightmares and enemies of the waking world... it was as if that broke her from the frozen state that terror and trauma had pushed her into.

She was now fully awake,

She was now furious.

"Murder!" She screamed, reaching for the bow and quiver of arrows that she had thankfully decided to strap to her that morning. Her clock fell from her back in her haste to grab her bow and her wings, now unbandaged and back to their full might and glory rose up with her fury.

"Crebain?!" he gasped in shock.

_Oh yes... you never saw me like this,_ a small, vicious part of her mind supplied. Nightshade was dying... she was good as dead and it was his fault. He was a murder.

She remembered the way he smiled at her, deceiving her back in her cell.

She remembered the way he shouted, accusations that he had no right to make falling from his lips as she watched her last shred of hope fall apart.

She remembered how he had stripped from her any remaining sympathy, any remaining fantasies that perhaps the elves could be good... that perhaps the misunderstanding could be cleared up.

Now, Nightshade was dying. She could hear her beloved friend, her wolf, her companion gasping for breath, in pain and dying by the hand of the same elf who murdered her family for being wolves...

Tears threatened to fall, but she pushed them back and replaced her grief with rage. Without a second thought, she grasped an arrow firm between her fingers and let if fly. The elf was so shocked by her appearance that he did not move as the arrow sailed directly towards his heart.

A flash of gold,

A cry of pain,

Evelyn blinked in shock.

On the floor was Legolas, but he was unscathed.

Atop him, an arrow protruding from his shoulder, was Glorfindel. He had pushed Legolas out of the way.

_Thief!_

Further grief, further rage bubbled in Evelyn's heart. Her mind was a mess, torn apart by memories, nightmares, grief, rage, and a betrayal. Nightshade was dying, her murder was standing right in front of Evelyn, and yet Glorfindel robbed her of her revenge, of the vengeance she was due.

Evelyn gave a cry of fury, but the commotion that they caused must have drawn a crowd for suddenly, she felt two pairs of hands on her. She screamed, thrashing wildly in the hold, memories of darkness, of the iron grip of elvish guards as they dragged her to her cell flooded her mind drawing her further into her panic. She looked up and was met with two identical, blank faces... it was the twins.

"Elenya, stop!" Glorfindel spoke and Evelyn snapped her head up towards his voice. "Elenya please... this must be a misunderstanding."

"Promise breaker!" she screeched. Her voice was crackled with pain and overflowing emotions, but there was power in her rage. "You promised! You promised and you lied!"

"Elenya, please-"

"Murder! He's a murder, he's killed Nightshade! Pup-slayer! Coward who kills pups in their den and potions prisoners who he offers friendship to!"

A patter of footsteps down the hall and suddenly, Elrond was upon them. He took int he scene with a single glance- Nightshade on the floor dying of an arrow clearly from Legolas' bow, Evelyn restrained by the twins, Glorfindel with an arrow from Evelyn in his shoulder, and Legolas still on the floor in frozen shock.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded sternly.

"Let go of me!" Evelyn screeched, panic and rage warring with each other- each fueling the other.

"Raven, stop," one of the twins, she wasn't certain who, ordered her, shaking her arm slightly for emphasis from where he stood above her. His grip was like that of the Mirkwood guards- cold and impersonal... holding her like she was some vile _thing_ which was tainting his very presence.

"Let go of me, Peredhel!" she spat in anger. "You should've been taken with your mother!"

She heard a sharp intake of breath at her words, but she cared not for rage ran too deeply to be quelled.

"Raven, calm down!" Aragorn, who had apparently been there for some time, yelled as he helped Legolas up off the floor.

_He's helping him... of course... they're friends. I was a fool to believe the one man in this wretched place would ever not side with his adopted kin. _

"Don't tell me what to do!" she screeched to Aragorn, her eyes blazing with righteous fury. "You have no right to give orders- you who are too cowardly to take up your kingship." Aragorn reeled back slightly at the sting, but Evelyn took no notice.

"Raven, that is enough." Lord Elrond stood at his full height, he was gazing down his nose imperiously at Evelyn and she wanted to spit in his face. His eyes were accusatory and of course they would be... of course he would side with the murdering scum who was of his own race... never mind that he was part man. He was a hypocrite, a liar as well as the rest for he offered her shelter, promised not to hold her prisoner and yet here his sons where bruising her arms in an effort to keep her hostage. "I understand that you are upset, but we must settle this calmly."

"He killed her! He abandoned me in that wretched cell years ago and now he's killed her as well!" her voice cracked in pain, but a magic sort of glee was bubbling to the surface... perhaps it was the madness that long had lied dormant in her brain... an aftereffect of all that she had lost, culminating in the death of her last friend. "Oh, but you know abandonment well, don't you little fosterling."

"Elenya, please," Glorifndel was attempting to gain her attention, but now Evelyn's focus was locked in on the Lord of Imladris.

"You, who has been abandoned by all who claimed to love you... your father left to sail, your mother jumped off a cliff to escape you, your adoptive 'father' ditched you, your twin chose death over a life with you, and even your wife who you were too weak to save left you!"

An eerie silence filled the hall and Evelyn took the slightest satisfaction that perhaps... just perhaps, she had hurt him. Even if it was a tiny bruise, it was something.

Meanwhile, she could see Nightshade's breath was slowing, the arrow had surly pierced her heart and it wouldn't be long now. She struggled wildly against the grip of the twins, blinking tears from her eyes as her chest heaved with effort. Her wings were beating wildly, buffeting the trio back and forth, threatening to lift all three off the ground.

"Elenya... Elenya please," Glorfindel was standing in front of her. One hand was limp at his side for the shoulder was pierced with her arrow, but the other hand was outstretched. His eyes were wide and pleading, but they met only rage.

"Don't call me that! Don't you dare call me that... promise-breaker."

He flinched, but still approached, steps slow and eyes blown wide.

"I'm certain- I'm certain that there is a misunderstanding here. Please... calm down and we will discuss this."

"I've nothing to say to you, promise-breaker! I should've never stopped those orcs from slaughtering your patrol."

"Elenya-"

"I should've sold you to that slaver like a whore, I should've left you to die at the hands of that orcs and wargs!"

"Please-"

"I should've let the Balrog consume you! I should've stood and watched, laughing as it tore into your flesh and then unleashed itself on those wretched elves of Gondolin. If I could do back now I would do just that! I should've let your people burn!" She was screaming, tears streaming down her eyes in such thick rivets that she did not notice that tears leaked from Glorfindel as well.

The rage, the grief, the pain, and the sharp sting of betrayal was all too much. The grip of the elves on her arms brought too many memories, the image of Nightshade dying on the floor- elven arrow her long delayed end was too much for her. With a mighty cry wretched from the depths of her soul she screamed.

"LET ME GO!"

Suddenly, a burst of bright white light, as pure and blazing as starlight exploded from Evelyn's thrashing form. Elladan and Elrohir were flung across the hall, thumping against the wall instantly unconscious. Glorfindel, Elrond, and Legolas as well were tossed back, hard enough to rattle the sturdy stone and leave them all dazed.

Evelyn didn't know what happened, she didn't know how or why it occurred... but she was beyond caring.

Sprinting forward, she launched herself towards Nightshade, now the only creature in the world to hold her compete focus. She lifted the dying wolf into her arms, cradling it as gently as she could. She spared a moment for the elves collapsed onto the floor around her.

"You will pay for this," she hissed to Legolas who was still staring at her with wide eyes. "Remember this well for I shall not forget it."

Then, she ran.

She didn't look back, didn't hear the cry following her nor the angry shouts of arguments between the elves. She didn't see the look of pure desperation and horror on Glorfindel's face. Her entire world had shrunk to Nightshade's final breaths. She made a sharp turn and lept from the first window that she encountered, spreading her wings and taking off in flight. She had no destination in mind, just far far far away from the elves.

She couldn't allow Nightshade to die surrounded by pup-slayers. She deserved better than that.


	28. Chapter 28

She found herself in a glade... where exactly she knew not as she had simply flown as quickly and with as much fury as possible. Tears clouded her visit and righteous anger fueled her flight, only the growing ache in her wings forced her to land.

There, she gently laid Nightshade out on the grass, watching as the wolf labored with each breath. Blood still slowly leaked from the cruel wound, but only the fell arrow itself kept Nightshade in this half place between life and death. The wolf's breaths were slowing, her chest rose and fell with greater effort each time, and her eyes rolled listlessly in their sockets. With each exhale, Evelyn saw life fading from Nightshade's body... soon the wolf's soul would be gone.

Evelyn wept, tears poured forth from her eyes and she caved over, arms encircling the great wolf's head. Nightshade was her last and only friend... the only creature in all of Middle Earth who never betrayed her, who always loved her, who always believed her... the only companion she had left. She had lost everything, she continued to loose any spark of hope that she dared to belive in. Now, she was loosing Nightshade too. The wolf was her last light, her final protection against the world and shadows of dreams... she was fading from life. Evelyn thought that she should soon follow.

Evelyn wept so deeply, so filled with grief, her years of caution and apprehension faded away. She was completely unaware of her surroundings as the sun fell from the sky, as the moon rose up, and as the stars took their place up high. She was so wrapped in grief that she failed to notice the oncoming cold and the creeping sense of dread as she was approached.

All at once it was upon her, a icy chill, a dreaded darkness so black that it shut out the moon and stars, she could feel the evil like a suffocating force, clenching around her heart.

She did not move though.

_If some evil has come... let it end me before I must watch Nightshade die..._

She wanted, needed the darkness to take her first.

She didn't think that her heart could survive another loss.

So Evelyn waited, still bent forth over Nightshade, she waited for a hiss of steel, the sharp whistle of a dagger, or perhaps even the brutal pounding of a club upon her exposed back.

But nothing came.

Finally, a voice of utter juxtaposition to the cold dread, as smooth as silk and rich as velvet, whispered behind her.

"You weep?" It was a question, not a statement. A moment of curiosity as the voice seemed to echo all around Evelyn.

"Yes," she barely managed to whisper, her voice cold.

"An elvish arrow has pierced your beast's heart. The elves are cruel, are they not?"

"Yes," the choked sob was cut off as she contemplated those words. _The elves... it's always the elves._

"You care for the wolf?"

"More than you could understand."

"It is dying."

"Yes," she gasped as she felt Nightshade growing colder beneath her hands. The wolf still breathed, but her life was fading rapidly.

"And if you could save her?"

Evelyn whipped around at that, pausing for a half moment in shock as she saw a shadowy figure, cloaked in a raggedly torn cape as dark as the night, a cloud of swirling darkness surrounded it. It was tall, broad of shoulder, and seemed to be made half of shadow, half of mist... almost as if it weren't really there.

"Who are you?"

"I am known by many names... many titles. Some have even called me Lord of the Wolves."

_Sauron!_

"Kill me or leave me be, Sauron," she turned back to her vigil over her fallen friend. "I have neither quarrel nor care for you."

"Ah, see that is what I find most fascinating. You despise the elves?"

"With every fiber of my being," she hissed, grief was already giving way to despair as the watched the brightness of Nightshade's eyes, the eyes that always shined with life... fading.

"Then perhaps... we may have an understanding," the voice of Sauron did not emanate from his shadowy figure, but instead floated about, gently caressing its way across Evelyn's ears.

"I will not become a servant or slave. I have not interest in choosing sides in this coming war. If you are victorious or destroyed I care not. Either kill me or let me be."

"Oh, but I have slaves and servants aplenty," the shadowy form moved across from Evelyn where she was forced to look upon the blackness which engulfed the glade. "What I offer you is not a place in my employment... but rather a... temporary arrangement... a deal."

"I don't want-"

"I know how to save your wolf's life."

Evelyn's head shot up, her glowing eyes burning into the dark form before her. She could not see his face, held no gauge for the truth of his words... _he is the deceiver... he will lie. _

"You trust me not... I understand... and so in good faith, I will tell you how to save your creature first, then you will complete one... simple task."

"You truly know how she can be saved?" Evelyn's heart was filling with dangerous hope... deceiver be damned, if Nightshade was alive then Evelyn could endure whatever was asked. She had no ties, no people to protect, no side to care on who wins or who dies, she had no gods to appease. Her life was her and Nightshade against all of Middle Earth... she would do anything to keep her.

"Yes."

"I agree to your terms. How?"

Although she could see no face, Evelyn swore that she felt Sauron smile.

"The power is not mine, but yours little child." The cloaked figure cocked his head to the side, curiosity evident in his tone as he continued. "I know not what you are, but I can sense the power in you. The Peredhel hid much from you... you have power that he could not believe, that he was afraid of. You can save her."

"How?" Evelyn cried in despair, every second that they wasted, Nightshade was slipping fourth and further from life.

All at once, the shadow surged forward, blackness and dark threatened to engulf Evelyn, but she did not falter, she did not shy away. The gentle caress of words was back, the soft whisper of intent as Sauron instructed her in magic that he swore lied dormant inside of her.

"Place one hand near the wound, the other on the shaft, and close your eyes," the voice ordered her and Evelyn obeyed. She would do whatever it took, make any dark promise, commit any deed to save Nightshade. "Good," Sauron's voice rumbled like a purr as he continued with his orders. "Now you must find your power... reach deep within yourself. I know you've used it... I felt the surge of energy from the Peredhel's little home. Find that power, find light and seize it in a fist like iron."

Evelyn's breathing slowed as she grasped for the power, that ball of light that she found buried at the bottom of her chest, but she couldn't, her mind was clouded with grief and she could not quite reach the light. Images of Nightshade running through the woods, images of them curled up together near a campfire, memories of the many nights where she clutched Nightshade like a lifeline, staving off memories of dark. She was drowning in them, drowning in her sorrow and despair.

"Focus!" Sauron hissed in her other ear. "If you dwell on memories you will let her die." She felt the swirling blackness move around her, circling her as it went. "You've used your powers once... you can do it again. Use raw emotions if you must, find what drove you to your gift before and seize it!"

She thought back to the halls in Imladris, the way she pushed back the elves in one burst of brilliant light. She thought back to how she wielded magic that she didn't even know she had. Rage had propelled her. Raw, unhinged flames of rage and grief propelled her strength. She did it once... for Nightshade's sake, she could do it again.

Breathing deeply to calm herself, Evelyn recalled every wrong done to her: every time she was seized, every false accusation, every disbelieving and contemptuous glare, every mocking word spat in a language she knew not, every elf that demanded answers they had no right to, every time her happiness was torn from her, and every single nightmare where she was forced to relive it all over and over again.

And she found it!

Suddenly, she felt that light, that shining ball of pure energy which long had laid buried within her- she had it in her grasp. Sauron must have sensed it too for she could feel the excitement pouring from him.

"Now, you have one chance. Pull the shaft and push that power into your wolf, use all your power, all your might. Fill the arrow wound with that energy with all the power you hold in your breast."

And Evelyn did.

With a cry of pain as if she pulled the arrow from her own breast, she yanked the shaft from Nightshade. Ignoring the blood which gushed forth from the wound, Evelyn forced every bit of that light into the cavity in Nightshade's chest and watched with shock and amazement as the wound closed itself.

As the wound closed, Nightshade's breaths became easier, her panting seized and her eyes stopped rolling- they stopped their motion and cleared. Suddenly... she was there. Alive, whole, and fully cognizant of the world. Evelyn wept tears of joy as Nightshade launched herself at her girl, an embrace of two, steadily beating hearts, warm bodies, fur and skin. Evelyn's tears were lapped away by the tongue of the massive wolf as it greeted her with yips of joy.

"I think my end of our bargain complete," Sauron spoke suddenly, breaking the momentary bliss of the reunion.

Evelyn dried her eyes, wiping away tears and the remains of Nightshade's joy with the hem of her dress... a piece of elvish make which now seemed to burn at the touch. She stood up on legs which hardly trembled, Nightshade rising to stand by her side. Placing a steadying hand on her wolf's back, she stood at her full height, shoulders squared and looked at the place where Sauron's eyes should've been.

"What is your request."

"One that you will complete gladly, I think," again, she could hear a smirk in his voice. "You hate the elves... those of Mirkwood most."

"Yes."

"They have something I want... and I need someone to get it for me."

Evelyn's heart pounded in fear. _That place... _

_Darkness_

_Cold_

_Walls closing in around_

"I am not sending you in alone," he spoke after seeing the obvious fear in Evelyn's eyes. "I want you to lead an army."

"I hate orcs."

"As do I... but do you hate elves more?"

"Yes."

"Then lead my troops, just this once. Lead them in and raze Mirkwood as you wish... kill as many elves as your heart desires... and retrieve the being who I want."

"Gollum?!" Evelyn suddenly realized where in he story she was... exactly what Sauron wanted from her. He needed Gollum... he need to know where his ring lied. He had yet to discover that it was with the hobbits... he didn't know yet. The war was coming.

"Ah... so I've heard you know of many things... no matter. I will not ask you questions for I know you will not answer. I want the creature."

Evelyn hesitated. She hated the elves, she hated the elves of Mirkwood. The entire race of elves had proven to be treacherous, the kindest and supposedly best of them all showed their truth. If those elves... if Elrond, Glorfindel... if the ones who were supposedly greatest proved themselves to be so vile... then their entire are was hopeless. Plus, why should Evelyn care? She had no allegiance to either side, and she knew that Sauron would succeed in obtaining Gollum eventually... what was to stop her?

"Did you know," Sauron continued with his easy drawl. "That they treat that wretched creature with more kindness then they ever did you? They take him out, let him climb trees and feel the breeze on his face."

Evelyn's mind wandered back to that cell in Mirkwood, her hands tightening their hold on Nightshade's fur as she recalled the cold, the dark, the stale air and bland gruel. The way sunlight almost blinded her when she found herself beneath it for the first time in years. She remembered the crippling loneliness, the way that she would hear false voices, whispers and illusions as she swore that she was going mad. She remembered the sneers of the guards, the haughty questions and condemnations of Thranduil, and the cruel deception of Legolas... she remembered it all and fire grew in her heart.

"When do we go?"

"Not now," Sauron whispered, his shadowed form already falling back, half evaporating as he left. "The time is not yet ripe. You must train. Learn to master your power, use your rage to fuel your fire. When you are ready... go to Dol Guldur... you will find your army and your orders. Burn what you will... kill who you must... but bring me the creature alive... do why my Nazgul cannot and bring me the creature alive and your debt will be paid."

Evelyn nodded and Sauron's shadowy form dissipated in the night. She felt his presence leave as the air around her seemed to warm, to return to its natural state as the stars and moon shone again.

Acting on instinct alone, Evelyn swung herself onto Nightshade's back and slumped forward in exhaustion. Using her power left her drained, she felt the strength slipping from her bones as Nightshade led them to find shelter for the night.

She was bone tired, cold, and felt completely drained... but she was happy.

Against all odds, she and Nightshade had come out on top... just as it always should be.

Now, she had a purpose. The grief, pain, and fear that had long festered in her heart was now kindling a flame of anger and rage. The elves took everything from her: her freedom, her innocence, her trust, and years of her life. She gave everything to save them, to protect them, and was ready to give them the keys to winning the war with fewer lives lost... and they betrayed her yet again.

Now... she would do as she promised.

She would burn Mirkwood to the ground.


	29. Chapter 29

"Glorfindel, No!" Elrond's voice rang crisp and clear even from the ground as he watched Glorfindel struggling to stand, stumbling in the direction of the window which Raven had flown from.

"I have to- I need," the blond elf gasped as the arrow, still stuck in his shoulder, was jostled. Yet he continued. "Elenya- she's scared... it was just-"

"Glorfindel, you're wounded."

"Tis but a flesh wound," he was now leaning against the wall, still stumbling towards the window.

"You need time to recover."

"I don't have time!"

"You also lack wings to follow her and you will not leap from a fourth story window with an arrow in you shoulder. Now, come with me to the healing halls." Elrond had managed to pull himself to shaky feet and glared down at Glorfindel with as much sternness as he could dredge up. "Glorfindel, do NOT force me to make it an order."

At those words, Glorfindel deflated, moving to briefly check on the twins who were slowly waking. Satisfied that he wouldn't be forced to scrape his Captain from the rocks below the house, Elrond then turned to the other occupants of the room, Legolas and Estel. He inhaled deeply before addressing them.

"Prince Legolas, welcome to Imladris. Unless the Woodland Realm is currently under direct siege, I must ask that you wait to deliver your message for a few hours yet. Estel shall show you to your room."

The prince nodded wordlessly and Elrond gave his sons a very strict order to attend the healing halls as well the moment they could walk properly again. He then turned to Glorfindel and glared at the warrior until he followed meekly. The entire time they walked, Elrond was counting in his head going up and down a hundred as he tried to keep himself sane. Of all things that he expected to occur when Legolas' arrival was announced... this was not one of them.

When they reached the halls, he tended to Glorfindel's wound in silence for he was one who preferred a bit of peace to sort out his thoughts. Glorfindel however was rather the opposite and made very vocal protests as Elrond forced a pain numbing brew down his throat before cutting out the arrow as carefully as he could whilst his patient instead on gesticulating wildly with his hands.

"I... I don't know what happened! It was an instinct! I saw the arrow flying and I just pushed the Prince out of the way."

"Please don't move that shoulder."

"Eru... it's all my fault! I promised I would stand by her... I promised that I was her friend and then... and then that!"

"Glorfindel, give me back that bandage."

"She's scared. So so scared... but why? Why would the Prince be such an enemy to Elenya? Was he why she is scared of elves?"

"Drink this-"

"And Eru... Nightshade! She can't survive that wound. Why would Legolas do such a thing? I always took the wood elves as lovers of all living things."

"All of it Glorfindel."

"I don't know what she'll do without that wolf! Nightshade was her rock, Elenya always had nightmares and Nightshade was the only one who could get her through them."

"Don't make faces at the tea. You're worse than an elfling."

"She's angry... and she's stronger than you think... I don't see this ending well..."

Glorfindel finaly finished the tea that Elrond administered having somehow calmed down slightly during his rant. He shakily wiped his fevered brow and Elrond placed a comforting hand on his good shoulder, squeezing lightly. In truth, his own head was spinning, but it was hardly the time for hysterics. He could feel Erestor standing outside the door and he knew that he would have to have a meeting with both of his senior staff members before going to Legolas and Estel.

"Rest now," he ordered Glorfindel firmly. "You are in no state to be chasing her and I doubt that she wishes to be found. We will discuss this once I have tended to my sons and you have calmed down."

Glorfindel gave a shaky nod and Elrond exited the room nearly crashing into Erestor who couldn't have stood closer to the door if he tried. Elrond extended one hand and silenced the counselor, ordering him to wait in his office until he finished checking on his sons. The counselor nodded and gave a short bow before retreating to Elrond's office, no doubt preparing a speech about the dangers of such guests and the foolishness of arming her.

When Elrond entered the twins' room- for they spent so much time in the healing halls that they had their own room there- Elrond found them both sitting on a bed perfectly healthy, if one were to discount their rather glum expressions. The twins' hair was a tousled mess and both seemed as ready for action as Glorfindel. Elrond smiled sadly as he saw the dejected expressions on his sons' faces. He knew that they had become somewhat close to Raven and were likely both hurt and confused by the turn of events.

"Have either of you held any ill symptoms?" he asked as he ran his hands along Elladan's skull before moving on to Elrohir.

"No Ada... we're both fine," Elladan mumbled.

"You were only unconscious for a moment, but there is always a risk. Any problems with vision or loss of focus?"

"Just confusion over Raven," Elrohir piped in this time.

"You are not to go looking for her," Elrond ordered sharply, already knowing what his sons would wish to do.

"But Ada-"

"No. I will be meeting with Erestor, Glorfindel, and Legolas about this incident. You are to remain in Imladris at least until our meeting has completed. You shall hear my judgment then."

"But Raven was _our _friend too. We should be present," Elrohir pointed out. No doubt recalling how they exchanged arrows on the training fields.

"I believe this matter goes beyond such things."

"She's not... she's not dangerous-" Elrohir tried, but was cut off by Elrond who raised a hand to silence his son.

"She was one stroke of luck away from killing Prince Legolas," he paused, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "We will discuss this later."

The twins, knowing when their father had had enough, nodded their heads and sat to finish drinking the tea that their father insisted on brewing. Elrond fixed them with one last glance before striding from the healing halls and towards his office. When he arrived he found Glorfindel, Erestor, and Legolas already present. It appeared that his advisor had already been briefed at least somewhat on what had occurred. Said advisor was standing with his arms crossed and lips pressed into a thin line. Elrond could swear that he could _hear_ the "I told you so" that the proper advisor would never say aloud.

The sun was setting and a cool evening breeze wafted in through the open windows. In the distance, the falling sun created a pool of orange and yellow, blanketing the valley. Elrond took a moment to collect himself by gazing out that window. _If only life were so peaceful, _he couldn't help but think as he gazed outward.

"We are all aware of the events which just occurred. I am certain that there are many questions, however I believe that it would be wise to start at the beginning," Elrond spoke in a measured tone.

"Why did you shoot the wolf?" Erestor questioned Legolas.

"I apologize if I broke hospitality," Legolas looked towards Elrond with concern. "However the wolf attacked me, it lept towards me and I was under the assumption that the creature had broken in for are wolves not beasts of Sauron?"

"Nightshade had never attacked a single elf unprovoked before," Glorfindel's tone was hard as steel.

"I fired mid-leap, my Lord. There was no mistake in that attack."

"She has saved my life from orcs twice over."

"The creature came towards me with no warning."

"Raven referred to you as 'pup-slayer,' an epitaph which I have yet to hear," Erestor pointed out. "Have you encountered the wolf before."

"Not that I recall, however... it is not unusual for us to cull wolves breeding near the city."

"Perhaps," Elrond, who had remained silent for the majority of the argument, now spoke. "We should start at an earlier beginning. Have you encountered Raven before?"

"Yes. She is a prisoner escaped from the King's dungeons."

"A prisoner?!" Glorfindel gaped. "For what crime?!"

"I did not reside in the Woodland Realm at the time... but she was found trespassing. King Thranduil found her form suspicious and when questioned, she refused to identify her species or purpose for trespassing. He believed that a stay in the dungeons would loosen her tongue."

"And yet you still know not who she is?" Elrond asked.

"No."

"How long?" Glorfindel's voice was nearly a whisper of repressed rage. He did not even look Legolas in the eye, merely staring at his clenched fist as he spoke.

"She was there for some time before I arrived... so I believe a little over three years. I almost did not recognize her this day... for she has changed."

Suddenly, Glorifndel stormed out of the room. He moved so quickly that Elrond didn't have a chance to object, however almost as soon as the door managed to swing shut it was thrown open once more. Glorfindel returned with a large pad of paper in his hands, a pad which he slammed down heedlessly on Elrond's desk. He flipped through it furiously until he landed on a page. At that point, he beckoned Legolas over, pointing to the contents of the page.

There, before all of them, was a charcoal sketch. The image was that of Raven, but far younger. There was no hardness to her gaze, no sharp words on her tongue. Instead, the face was bent in grief with a single tear trialing down the curve of her cheek. Every aspect of the face was drawn with painstaking care until the shadows seemed to pull her face off the page. Mostly however... she looked so young. To Elrond's eyes, experienced in raising the heirs of Isildur, she was but a child not even at the cusp of adulthood. She was innocent, scared, and utterly vulnerable.

"Was this what she looked like?" there was a slight tremble to Glorfindel's voice, and the Prince refused to meet his challenging glare.

"Yes."

"By Iluvatar," Glorfindel hissed and Elrond looked up, mildly startled. In all his years of knowing the re-born elf, he was never one to curse... especially not to take Iluvatar's name in vain. "That is the image of a child!"

"What occurred to her those three years?" Elrond asked.

"She was fed and kept locked up..." Legolas paused for a moment in hesitation, but continued. "On occasion the King would question her, but she responded with nonsense which he saw as lies. Upon my return to the Kingdom I was sent in to... question her."

"She called you a promise-breaker."

"I- I promised to release her from her cell if she answered me honestly... and she did not... even under the influence of Naitie."

"You gave a child Naitie?" Erestor gasped for even he was horrified. Elrond found himself cringing at the thought for Naitie was a foul substance indeed. It was invented long ago by Curufin Feanorion and was heralded as a truth potion of sorts. It was usually quite effective... however it warped the mind of those who it was administered to, turning shadows into monsters, wind into howls, and memories into nightmares of the day. Even in mortal bodies it tore through their insides, burning like no other pain and sometimes wrecking bodies past salvation. If Raven was dosed with Naitie, she was lucky to still be alive.

"She gave no direct answers... the King was concerned that she posed a threat to the Woods..."

"And so you took a lost child, locked her up in solitude for three years, interrogated her, and poisoned her. Three years of solitude... if she is as mortal as she seems... less has been known to drive men mad." Elrond had never been particularly fond of King Thranduil and there was a reason why he had never been added to the White Council. Yet this moved beyond what he expected of the haughty king... Thranduil had gone too far.

"King Thranduil did what he believed was best for the safety of our people."

"During all that time..." Erestor's voice was surprisingly hesitant. "Of all the questions you asked... did you ever ask her name?"

The silence was all that they needed for an answer.

Elrond could practically hear the way that Glorfindel fumed, he could feel the anger rolling of the ancient elf in waves. What they just heard... explained so much. It explained why Raven was so alone, why she was terrified of elves, why she lasted out so fiercely when threatened. Of course, it did little to explain her origins as the wood elves seemed just as stumped as them... but it did explain the entire conflict. The picture was suddenly clear in Elrond's head; Nightshade saw the elf who killed her fellow wolves and attacked, Legolas defended himself, Raven saw her friend killed by the one who imprisoned her, then Glorfindel saved Legolas and thus broke Raven's trust. It was a situation cursed from all sides.

Elrond was also very well aware of the rant that Glorifndel was about to unleash upon Legolas, of the grand speech regarding her heroics in Gondolin, how she save his life many times, how she healed his wound and nursed him back to health, of how she had protected Imladris from the shadows... but Elrond also knew that such speech would be little help. Instead, he dismissed both Glorfindel and Erestor, stating that he would further explain what they knew of Raven to Legolas and recieve whatever message he brought. Tempers were running high and after the events of the day, the last thing that Elrond wanted was further conflict.

Both elves grudgingly complied, moving towards the door, but Glorfindel paused. With one hand on the doorframe and his back to the room, he spoke in a slow and grave voice.

"Elenya was a child, pure of heart and filled with all the fear of a mortal walking amongst beasts who she fought with no skill but great courage. For many years her only friend was a wolf which has now been taken from her by the ones who hardened her heart. I fear for what she will now become."

Glorfindel left, but his words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of prophesy.


	30. Chapter 30

**_Hiss_**

Her blades sang as they cleaved through the air, slicing a rouge Uruk-hai's femoral artery to spill forth black blood. Evelyn turned on one foot, extending her other arm to cut the achilles tendon in another who was attempting to sneak up on her from behind. The foul beast gave a cry of pain, falling forward and meeting the tip of her blade as it slid through its chest. Evelyn released the handle of her first blade as it was lodged too deeply in the creature's chest cavity to retrieve. Then, in one fluid motion she turned again and sheathed her other blade in the spine of an orc barreling towards Nightshade. The beast managed one hoarse cry before collapsing forward and convulsing on the ground.

That left one beast standing.

A nod from Evelyn was all Nightshade needed to know as she began running straight for the girl, an Uruk-hai trailing behind her. At the sound of a low whistle from Evelyn, Nightshade ducked her head down and sped up, creating a good amount of distance between her and the wolf.

Evelyn stood there, her blades still sheathed in the bodies of fallen Uruks, her bow strapped to her back, and her quiver unused. She planted her feet firmly in the earth and let her hands dangle by her side.

She closed her eyes.

She could feel the ground beneath her feet, the life of the air, the grass, and the earth itself. There was an energy all around her, a pulsing life which came and went with every breath that she took. She grasped at it, at the life flowing through her.

Nightshade zoomed past her and turned, one high pitched bark of warning had Evelyn opening her eyes to see the Uruk-Hai nearly upon her. The foul beast's wicked club was raised high, moonlight reflecting off the shards of glass embedded in the rough wood.

Evelyn smiled.

When the beast was only a few feet away from her, just as it swung its club back in preparation for crushing Evelyn's skull, she lifted her hands. Calling forth all the rage, anger, and bitter hatred in her heart she yanked at the ball of magic she once used the heal Nightshade. She pulled on that light deep within her soul and fashioned it into a sharp spear, thrusting it out and into the Uruk-hai.

A beam of light shot out of Evelyn's hands and hit the beast, exploding on contact in one brilliant burst of light so bright, Nightshade was forced to close her eyes. But, Evelyn kept hers open. She kept her eyes open wide as she watched that light penetrate the foul creature and lift it several feet off the ground before it exploded.

Black blood and flesh flew in every direction save where Evelyn stood; leaving her completely clean, but a clear radius of orc flesh remained. The creature was blown up. Instead of a carcass, there was a semicircle of black sludge.

Nightshade ambled over to Evelyn who leaned heavily upon her companion. She took one last survey of the scene before retrieving her blades and wiping them clean before sheathing them. She then hopped astride Nightshade and the pair ambled off, away from the stench of orc flesh and the grisly remains of their battle.

The pair had been roaming to and fro for weeks as Evelyn trained her powers. She was still unsure as to how she acquired them and from where they came, but she knew that they were strong and that her anger fueled them, though left her drained. At night they traveled for night was when orcs were most active and therefore when they were most likely to encounter them. The creatures that they once avoided they now sought out for there were no better beings to practice on.

In some cases, she would use her blades or her bow, honing her weapon skills and training her body to fight as it had those years whilst dwelling in Mirkwood. Other times, like this one, she would train her newfound powers. Although often times her conventional weapons were the most efficient method of dispatching the beasts, none could argue that her powers were less effective; for no creature who crossed her wrath was left alive.

Through their travels, Evelyn and Nightshade avoided all signs of men and certainly elves. Evelyn didn't dare to travel back to the cave that she once called home. Although Glorfindel never saw it from the outside, there was too much of a risk that he would find it. The blond elf seemed to be incredibly stubborn and annoyingly undeterrable. Once, Evelyn had found it almost charming, the way that Glorfindel sought out her friendship an trust with such blind devotion. That was of course up until the point where she saw his promises to be as thin as tissue paper.

_Traitor,_

_He will always choose his kin first-_

Evelyn shook her head at the thought, urging Nightshade forward. It had been a successful night's hunt and neither were injured. Thus they hoped to make greater headway on their travels and get a larger distance between them and any orcs that might deem it suitable to give chase.

They eventually found shelter in the form of a tree bearing massive roots. The tree seemed to welcome the pair as they settled down, Evelyn not daring to make a fire whilst knowing how neat they were to orcs. Luckily, they were deep into spring and the weather was rather mild. Nonetheless, Evelyn extended her wings and nestled both her and Nightshade in them like a cocoon, one that would hopefully stave off the terrors of sleep.

Evelyn still had regular nightmares: some of the Balrog, some of the dungeons, and some of Mirkwood. Nonetheless, at least she had Nightshade. Nightshade, her constant companion always at her side. Before she had thought that she would move the world for the wolf, in reality she did something similar in her promise. She knew the devil's bargain that she entered, but sitting there in that hollowed-out root cave with Nightshade's massive head on her lap, she would do it all over again. Once she completed her end of the bargain, she and Nightshade could disappear from Sauron, Glorfindel, the elves, and all creatures of Middle Earth. In actuality, she wouldn't be changing much as in the books Sauron did eventually get to Gollum. She was just changing the method with which he obtained the creature and in all honesty, Evelyn couldn't really claim to care.

As she saw it, the elves held no moral high ground over Sauron. They were no better than the orcs who blindly followed orders- be them from fear or loyalty.

Thranduil would pay for his arrogance and his cruelty.

Though using her powers drained her energy, the rage which she tapped into each time fueled Evelyn's anger. Her hatred for the woodland king was ever growing. Legolas had nearly murdered Nightshade- would have actually murdered her if it weren't for the deal that she struck with Sauron. Any possible mercy that she once held in her heart for the naive and playful elf of Tolkien's books was gone.

Legolas Thrandulion was a murder, pup-slayer, liar, and son of an arrogant prig.

Evelyn stroked Nightshade's fur, the steady heartbeat of her companion coming her and lulling her to sleep. Her fingers carded their way through the thick and wiry overcoat- into the soft down-like fur below. As she closed her eyes and leaned back her fingers came across the spot where and arrow had almost stopped Nightshade's heart. She found her hand lingering there and in response, Nightshade nuzzled at Evelyn's wrists where the manacle scars still remained. She smiled slowly, whispering words that only Nightshade could hear.

"Thranduil will burn."

Evelyn stretched her wings a bit more, ensuring that both her and Nightshade were tucked within the protective folds.

"Legolas will burn."

Nightshade nestled down a bit closer, snuggling in and breathing warmth into the space.

"Mirkwood will burn."

The pair soon fell asleep, lulled by the promises of vengeance that they made. The promises were lofty, high-set, and nearly impossible to achieve.

Neither Evelyn nor Nightshade were the type to break their promises.

* * *

Erestor stood by his office window watching the comings and goings of the elves of Imladris. The Last Homely House was once a bustling hub of activity. Tracing all the way back to when Imladris was known as the Great Forge as it prepared for war with Sauron it had always been a center of elvish community. Now, the number of elves inhabiting the valley dwindled with each voyage to the sea. The last laughter of a child heard in the valley was that of the young Estel for no elfling's were born in times of such trepidation. So many elves had journeyed on, taken with longing for the home that many had never known... it was a longing that Erestor simply couldn't understand. His home was in the gentle slope of the valley, the graceful arches of stone, and cascading waters of the Bruinin. He loved Imladris and would do all in his power to protect it.

A knock on his door sounded and he bid the elf to enter. It was a servant who informed him that Lord Elrond and Prince Legolas requested his presence in Elrond's office. Erestor thanked the servant and turned immediately down the familiar and short path to Lord Elrond's office. Without hesitation he knocked firmly and entered at his Lord's bidding. Glorfindel was still nowhere to be see whilst Legolas was pacing near the heart. Lord Elrond however, stood above his desk, fingertips pressed to the wood as he stared at a map of Middle Earth.

"You requested my presence, my Lord."

"Yes, Erestor... there is much for us to discuss," Elrond replied with a severity in his tone that Erestor had not heard since Estel all but rejected his heritage as Aragorn. "Prince Legolas brings news that the creature Gollum is making progress under the care of the Woodland Realm."

"I sense that there is a 'but' about to be added." Erestor was admittedly beginning to grow concerned. His Lord rarely delayed bad news. Lord Elrond looked at Prince Legolas, but the Woodland Prince averted his gaze, obviously not willing to speak again.

"You are correct," Elrond spoke at last. "There is more... Legolas brings news from Mithrandir, who visited his realm and sent him forth on this errand." Elrond paused again and looked down at his desk as if attempting to absorb strength from the solid wood beneath his hands. "The One has been found."

"My Lord?!" Erestor was shocked, surly he had heard wrong.

"Mithrandir is certain... the One has been found and the creature Gollum held it for years without knowing its significance."

"Who holds it now?"

Lord Elrond audibly sighed, placing a hand to his forehead and inhaling deeply. He turned to Erestor and faced him, staring straight into his eyes so that there would be no mistake in the seriousness of his words.

"A Halfling."

"A Halfling?"

"Yes, a halfling." There was a moment of stunned silence before Lord Elrond continued. "There is a Halfling living in the Shire who holds the One. Mithrandir goes to seek him out and Estel leaves meet him tonight. Prince Legolas will return to his realm and continue to guard Gollum."

"An unprotected halfling holds the One... not even knowing what it is."

"That is why Estel rides out tonight for he will make less of a scene than a troop of elvish warriors."

"Do the Nazgul move?" Erestor asked, the incident from earlier all but forgotten in light of the current revelations. If the One had been found then it wasn't only Imladris that was in trouble... it would be all of Arda that could fall.

"As of yet... we are unsure."

"The darkness of Dol Guldur grows in strength," Legolas, finally speaking, added. "Orc and spider attacks are becoming more and more frequent."

"And where will Mithrandir and Estel bring this Halfling?"

"Here. They will bring him and the One here. I think it wise that we hold a council... a gathering of all the races for all shall share the fate of the One."

"All?"

"Yes."

"Stall Estel represent-"

"No."

"Are you sure it is wise to allow Men to be in the presence of the One?"

"It is they who are destined to remain in Arda... they shall be the most affected by the decisions of the council."

"But the Eldar-"

"We are leaving these shores, Erestor." Elrond fixed the counselor with a stern glare. "Few of the Eldar remain and soon we shall all travel on. The Halflings are nearly entirely unaware of the lands beyond their farms, the Dwarves delight in the bowels of the earth and will one day vanish from the surface... it is Man that shall shape the future of Arda."

Elronds words where heavy with the lingering hints of his gift of sight, a tone which Erestor knew indicated that there would be no further argument. Thus, he nodded his head slowly in acquiescence. No matter how much Erestor loved Arda, the elves were falling out of love with it. Valinor's call was too strong and Eru was beckoning his Firstborn to join him across the Straight Road. Man, the weak race which once allowed the One to escape destruction after years of war, would now hold the loudest voice in the fate of Aman. No matter what, Erestor couldn't bare to see the land he loved destroyed... even if he would sail away from the land forevermore.

"Prince Legolas," Elrond spoke to the elf who had remained rather silent throughout the course of the discussion. His brow was creased and he seemed deep in thought. In truth, Erestor couldn't tell if it was gilt over the small battle or concern over the fate of the One. "Please deliver this message to King Thranduil," he handed him an envelope with his official seal. "It informs him of the council that we shall be hosting and asks him to send a representative for the Woodland Realm."

"May I-" he began.

"Allow me to speak to Estel first. Then you may then converse with him before he sets out on his task."

Prince Legolas thanked Lord Elrond for his hospitality and bowed once before leaving with great haste. This left Erestor alone with his Lord. The pair shared a long, somber look. It was a glance that bore the weight of the situation that they were lost in. Isildur's Bane had returned... Estel would be forced to face his fate and they were now relying on a meddlesome wizard and a Halfling to not die on the journey from the Shire to Imladris.

"One last thing," Lord Elrond spoke slowly, "Raven..."

"If you'll pardon me saying my Lord, despite Lord Glorfindel's attachments... I doubt that she is the greatest of our problems now."

"I suspect that there may be more to her than we are aware... the Valar rarely have such humor to hold two extraordinary events in such proximity."

"Do you think her a spy of the Dark One?" He asked, suddenly concerned as he recalled Raven's use of the Black Speech in retaliation against them... _she did know the prophesy... _such things were not common knowledge.

"I sensed no darkness in her... fear, confusion, grief, and anger... but no darkness."

"Then what role is she to play?"

"I fear only Eru shall know."

Erestor shook his head, leaving Lord Elrond's office with more questions and worries swimming in his head since the days after Lady Celebrian's departure. Glancing out a window that overlooked the gardens, he saw Estel and Legolas walking side by side, exchanging words and likely worries. There was a strange sense of camaraderie between the Edain and the Prince... it was a rare and beautiful thing that Erestor had little experience in for he could never quite forgive Man for their weaknesses. They were frail, corruptible, and most often foul. In truth, Estel was the only of Eru's Secondborn who Erestor found himself to grow fond of.

The ghost of a smile quickly vanished from Erestor's face when he realized that scenes such at those- of an Eldar and Edan walking side by side- would soon fade from all of Arda. The elves would sail no matter what... there was nothing that Erestor could do to prevent that. But, whether they would sail away from a land freed from shadows at last or a burning crucible of misery and pain would soon be decided.

If only for the sake of Estel, if only for the sake of those of Elros' decedents who still bore a drop of noble blood... then Erestor would prevent that grim fate.

Nothing, no one- not even the savior of Gondolin would prevent him from safeguarding the fate of all of Arda.


	31. Chapter 31

"You think my actions were wrong?" Legolas stated, though it held the hint of a question in it.

"What do you think?" Estel replied.

Legolas had exited his meeting with Lords Elrond, Glorfindel, and Erestor several hours ago. For a long while he sought comfort in the trees as he usually did, however for some reason the trees of Imladris seemed almost hostile towards him. It was an unsettling feeling that he was unused to and thus he sought solitude even from them. In truth, solitude was what he needed for some time. His father had always taught him the importance of masking his emotions. Legolas was a prince and one day would inherit the throne. As a king, it would be his duty to remain impassive in the most severe of circumstances... but listening to the anguish in Glorfindel's tone almost broke his resolve.

His hours of contemplation over his actions and whether or not they were justified eventually lead to a rather annoyingly silent Estel who walked beside him and did nothing more. Legolas knew that the Edain was pulling one of his usual tricks in allowing the elf to stew in silence until it became too much and he would bare forth his secrets. But, Legolas was determined to avoid such things.

That was of course, until he found that he actually couldn't bare the silence and thus broke it with the question.

"I think I did what I believed was necessary to protect the Woodland Realm." When Legolas spoke, Estel made a slight humming sound before piercing him with one of those steely gazes.

"You didn't ask me if I thought your intentions were wrong. You asked me if I though your actions were wrong."

"Where they?"

"That is the second time you've asked."

"The second time you haven't answered."

"Do you suppose that such is evidence enough?"

"Yes."

They lapsed into silence after that one.

The wind was picking up a slight hint of a chill and in the distance, the trees which now seemed angry at Legolas for some inexplicable reason were dancing in the breeze. Birdsongs filled with valley with a light music whilst minstrels could be heard rehearsing in the distance. The sun was already descending and soon, it would be time for both Legolas and Estel to go their separate ways. One to relay a message to his King and Father, the other to find a lost Halfling and a meddling wizard. Their lives had just become far more complicated than ever before. Legolas knew that much still hung unsaid between the pair, but it was Estel this time, who spoke first.

"Did I ever tell you of the time I lit Glorfindel's chambers on fire?"

"What?!" Legolas exclaimed. Of all the things that Legolas was expecting to hear, that was not one of them.

"I was very young, perhaps around five or six," Estel launched into his story, seemingly taking Legolas' shock as indication that this was somehow a new tale to the elf. "And I found the strangest cloth whilst playing by the Bruinin. I'm not sure why it amused me so much, though it was likely due to the fact that the coarsely tanned leather, which was so poorly tanned that it still held patches of fur, was a complete novelty to me. Well I decided that it would be my warrior cape and after rising it in the river I tied it around my throat, parading all the way back to the house. When I arrived, I was found by Glordfindel playing by the fire with my new cape and he took one look at it before yanking it from me and tossing it into the flames. I was so shocked that I didn't say a single thing when he marched off, but soon I found myself filled with rage."

"Why would he do such a thing?"

"Patience, mellon-nin," Estel scolded lightly. "As I said, I was young but I had been under the influence of Elladan and Elrohir for too long. They had taught me that when one is wronged, revenge and pranks are the best option. Thus, I decided to take a warrior's revenge and do the same to him that very night."

"You wanted to burn Lord Glorfindel's cape?"

"No," the deadpanned look on Estel's face would have been better suited for a discussion of war, not a tale of childhood. "I knew that I couldn't do something to Glorfindel directly, but I figured that I could still burn something of his. So that night before I could lose my courage, after being tucked into bed, I snuck out and went to Glorfindel's chambers for I overheard over dinner that he would be out. I brought a lamp with me and as I was in such a state of panic, I grabbed the first cloth I could find and I lit it on fire."

"And?"

"Well..." Estel finally seemed to have the nerve to look sheepish as his story continued. "It just so happened that the cloth that I selected to light... was an oil soaked rag that Glorfindel usually used for his swords. The fire grew far larger than I could handle and I found myself sprinting out of the room to get help. By the time the others got there however, the flames had spread too far and nearly all of Glorfindel's possessions were either charred or smoke damaged."

"I do not envy you." Legolas couldn't get the image of the fearsome Balrog Slayer returning from a hard night's training to find his room in flames.

"No," Estel's smile was wry as he replied. "Glorfindel was furious, but did well to hide it for I was already terrified. He did however chuckle quite a bit when I explained my line of reasoning. He then revealed to me why he had thrown away my cape so quickly... apparently it was because my "cape" was an orc's loincloth."

Legolas blinked once, twice, and then thrice.

"You were playing with an orc's loincloth?"

"Well at the time I didn't know what it was," Estel chuckled good naturedly. "Glorfindel was in such a state of shock when he had found me playing with it, that he did the first thing he could think of which was to burn it. Then, instead of explaining it to me he rushed out to hunt down whichever orcs were near enough to Imladris to drop such a thing."

"So you burned down Lord Glorfindel's chambers because he prevented you from playing with an orc's loincloth?" Legolas looked decently unimpressed.

"I never intended to burn down his chambers," Estel corrected lightly. "I only meant to burn up a single cloak."

Legolas paused, thinking over Estel's strange story. It was a funny tale to tell after enough years had passed, but the meaning behind his parable seemed clear.

"So you're comparing my attempts to protect my realm with the actions of you as a child playing with fire?" Legolas asked, though his voice was not unkind.

"No," Estel's smirk was enough to drive the elf mad. "_You_ are comparing your actions to those of me as a child."

Legolas glared at his friend. The pair had spent many years traveling together, facing the dangers of Middle Earth. They were brothers in arms and Estel was Legolas' closest confidant. The sun was falling lower, soon the stars would rise and the pair would separate, journeying on to their tasks. They enjoyed each others' company in silence for a little while longer before standing, both wishing the other swift travels.

As Estel rose to leave, Legolas had one final parting remark.

"You know Estel," the Edain paused and turned his gray gaze to the the Elf. "I think that you have spent too long among the Eldar... you are beginning to give advice like Lord Elrond."

Estel smirked before walking off with a tread almost as silent as the elves of Imladris.

* * *

Glorfindel was pacing. Back and forth, back and forth. It was an old habit that he had picked up as a young Lord in Gondolin... his father often told him that he would burn a hole in the rug. He actually did, on several occasions, wear down the rugs in his study enough to warrant a replacement. Of course, now he had no rug in his chambers as he had moved his own pale yellow rug with its floral embroiderments into Elenya's room. Instead he was pacing on the stone floor.

_Perhaps I'll create a groove in the stone,_ he through wryly to himself.

His smile soon faded however as his mind was drawn back to his grief. And he owned that grief, he held onto it for dear life for he knew that if he allowed his grief to slip- if even for a moment, it would turn to rage.

Grief he could endure. He had done so many times from the crossing of the Helcaraxe to his city's fall... he had shed more tears than he could count.

But rage... oh rage was a rare and dangerous thing in him. He had always been known as slow to rage, as being of the such a sunny disposition that the other Lords of Gondolin would playfully joke that perhaps it was not Yavanna who blessed him, but maybe Nienna of Mercy. He had stood not he front lines of warriors as he faced down the foulest of beasts with only a grim stare of determination, whilst other lords roared in rage. After his return to Middle Earth he always found life far too precious to be spent angered over things seeming so petty to one with as long a life as he had. Perhaps though, perhaps he had spend too long avoiding rage and anger. He was holding back a dam of epic proportions... and, if he allowed the floodgates to break then not even Eru himself would be able to predict.

And so, he bottled that rage.

He allowed the tears to flow freely from his eyes.

Elenya... his precious, precious Elenya who stood with him against the Balrog. A child who faced Morgoth's fiercest spawn for the sake of a stranger, a child who trembled and yet shone with courage, a child who cradled a foreign being in her arms to whisper reassurances as he died... a child far too pure and innocent for the cruelty of Middle Earth.

She was lost, and she was found only by suspicion and hate.

Darkness grew where there once was none.

His Elenya was out for blood, and she hated him too much for him to stop her.

A large, large part of Glorifndel wished to chase her, to seek her out and make amends. But, as often as he was accused by Erestor of being rash, he wasn't a complete fool. He knew that some sort of power had awoken in Elenya that day, he knew that Nightshade was dying, and he knew that Elenya would never forgive any of them for allowing it to happen. There was nothing in all of Arda that Glorfindel could do to sooth Elenya's soul... except perhaps to serve Prince Legolas' head to her on a platter- something that he could and would never do.

Glorfindel found his eyes drawn towards the flames of his hearth. He had a strong dislike of large fires and thus, he usually preferred to only keep coals smoldering instead of burning logs like most were so fond of. Somehow however, a fire had grown in his hearth and he saw himself in the flames. He saw the fiery Balrog as it grasped him by his loose hair, pulling him down into the depths of the mountains. He saw the face of Elenya, a scared and terrifyingly innocent child battling the monster. Then, he saw more burning, the land was burning and she was soaring above it, face a stoic mask as she watched all before her perish. The flame version of Elenya suddenly turned and stared directly at Glorfindel who violently flinched backwards. He saw the face bend in grief, innocence back in her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks. Just as Glorfindel moved forward to comfort her though, her face contorted in rage and she lept out of the flames firing Glorfindel to stumble wildly back, crashing into the small stool serving as his nightstand. He swore she was about to kill him, about to wrap her fiery tendrils around his form, now so alike to a Balrog that he wanted to weep.

"Glorfindel!" Elrond's sharp tone broke Glorfindel from his trance as he turned to gape at his lord who now stood with the door to his chambers open. "I was calling for you, Glorfindel," he spoke slowly and with that calm candor that only healers can seem to manage. "You would not respond no matter how loudly I shouted and I heard the crash."

Blinking rapidly, Glorfindel's mind processed the information... it was all a nightmare. A waking nightmare triggered by his grief and the flames of his hearth. He was no stranger to his nightmares, having not the gift of sight he knew them to be but fanciful tangents of his imagination... but that didn't make them feel any less real. He actually hadn't had one in what felt like ages... ever since his patrol where he first stumbled upon Elenya... he had seemed free of his terrors.

"Is it-"

"Peace," Glorfindel interrupted Elrond, holding up his good hand in a placating gesture. "A simple nightmare... nothing more."

Elrond nodded in understanding and paused for a moment, hesitating slightly.

"I'm sorry Glorfindel, but you can't-"

"I know." Glorfindel ran one hand nervously through his hair as he spoke the words that he had silently come to the conclusion over long ago. He just feared that now, speaking them aloud would make then real. "I cannot chase Elenya."

"Mellon-nin, I'm truly sorry, but-"

"She is in no state to be found," Glorfindel finished Elrond's sentence. "She will not desire the company of any among the Eldar. Perhaps... if Estel is-"

"He has already left Imladris."

Glorfindel's brow furrowed at Elrond's words. The Lord seemed even more hesitant than before and that made Glorfindel supremely worried. Glorfindel watched at Elrond fiddled with the ends of his knotted hair, a nervous tick which Glorfindel had noticed long ago, before he finally spoke.

"The One has been found."

Instead of the shock or disbelief that other had shown, Glorfindel merely sighed.

He was tired.

Tired of everything. He just wanted to down a few flagons of wine and sleep in his tiny cot stolen from the Healing Halls for a few decades at least.

Instead, he pulled the lone chair from where it stood next to his pitiful table and slid it across the room to Elrond. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he plopped himself on the bed and rested his chin on one hand.

"So, what must we do?"

* * *

Six spawn of Ungoliant laid dead on the grass. The creatures had strayed too far from the protection of their forests and were summarily executed by Evelyn.

But, there was no blood, no wounds, not so much as a scratch on any of the exoskeletons of the beasts. Instead, they were all dead, twisted and contorted into the strange of positions as all their energy, every ounce of life in them was drained.

Evelyn though that her training was coming along quite nicely.

With that in mind, she turned to the looming sight of Mirkwood in the distance. Placing a hand of Nightshade's back for support, she walked towards it. The closer they got the Mirkwood, the more keenly she could feel darkness and the evil that enveloped the place. Every step brought her closer and closer to her dread.

Finally, they reached the treeline. Behind them was an open meadow with plains and hills aplenty. A nearby brook created the trickling sound of water singing across rocks, but some instinct in Every allowed her to _know _that they would hear no babbling brook once they stepped between those trees, so dark and looming that they appeared like pillars of stone.

Evelyn paused and turned to Nightshade, a strange look emerging in her eyes before she spoke.

"You are, and have always been my most faithful companion. If I had not found you that night, all these years ago, then I would have perished long ago. But, I made a deal with a being every bit as evil as the elves, _I _made a bargain and it is my burden that I must carry. I will not ask for you to follow me."

Nightshade looked up at her for several moments, head tilted in a silent question before he spoke in return.

_"I have followed you through storm and fair skies, through Mirkwood and the open plains, through elves and orcs alike... I will not leave you side now."_

_"But you know what I must do?" _Evelyn's tone was filled with worry, but Nightshade only nodded in response.

_"And I am with you."_

Evelyn smiled, a small and sad thing, but a smile nonetheless. It had been a long time since she had been able to smile.

"Well the," she climbed atop Nightshade's back, allowing the massive wold to carry them through the thick overgrowth. "We have a King to burn."

They stepped across the boarder of the trees, entering the lands of the elvenking Thranduil.

They had returned with vengeance on their minds.


	32. Chapter 32

"And you think this Halfling is strong enough to bear the burden?" Glorfindel asked, his tone less skeptical than Elrond imagined it would be.

"From what Mithrandir has described... yes."

"You have seen things?"

Elrond fixed Glorfindel with a look that said no no uncertain terms that yes, he had indeed seen things. His visions were still clouded, still confused and twisted in gyres of uncertainty. But, he knew that above all, the only way for Middle Earth to possibly remain free would be for the One to be destroyed. Elrond sighed heavily, turning from where he stood at the open window to look into Glorfindel's bright, tree-lit eyes.

"If the council goes as I hope... then we will send the ring with the Halfling to be destroyed in Mordor, where it should have ended long ago." Elrond felt the weight of his own words, the burden that he carried from that fateful night.

Young Estel thought of that moment, that moment when Isildur's bane took its hold... he always thought it to be the moment that Man's will fell. Elrond knew it was his.

No matter what words Elrond spoke on the weakness of Man, on the fault that lies in their very blood... his will was weak that night. He was steps away from the One, he could have thrown it into the fiery chasm and ended the threat once and for all. But, he faltered. He could hear the calling of the One, he knew how seductive its tone was.

And he was afraid.

He was afraid that his own will was weak, that he would cave and give into the callings of power. He feared that should he wrest the One from Isildur- for he knew as an Eldar he could easily overpower the battle weary Edain, that he would fall into the spell of the One the moment he touched it. He feared that it would seize his fea and pull him into darkness and despair, that it would capture him in the way those he loved were seized by the power of the Silmarils. First his mother and father, flying through the sky and abandoning their sons; then were his foster fathers, seized in a mad lust for the jewels and bringing so much pain and ruin. _Is that what I would become? _His mind had questioned that night.

_Fosterling of kinslayers_

The tauntings of Raven haunted Elrond still.

"You expect a Halfling to survive a journey to Mordor?" Now Glorfindel sounded skeptical, pulling Elrond from his thoughts.

"Not alone... I would like you to accompany him."

"Elrond, I-"

"You are one of the only beings in all of Arda capable of facing the Nine. You also hold no cravings for power, no ambitions for further glory or greatness. There are precious few who I would trust against the temptation."

Elrond had thought on the matter for a long while, he had contemplated every possible option. In his visions, his dreams, he saw Middle Earth burn so many times, in so many ways. And it wasn't just Arda... if Arda fell then it wouldn't take long for Sauron to turn his eyes to Aman. There would be no safe haven for their kind.

Glorfindel stared back at Elrond for a long time. Though his posture was as tall and straight as the perfect warrior he was, there was a weight bearing down on him. Elrond ran an appraising eye over his friend, seeing the way his eyes cast their way downwards, his energy falling to the stones at their feet. He looked weary. It was one of the few moments where Elrond was reminded that Glorfindel was one of the oldest beings alive on their side of the Seas. He was a being from the time before the sun, born in Aman among the homes of the Valar. He was ancient and bore the burden of being an emissary of the Valar; after having given his life defending his people he was not even given the right to rest in peace, but sent back to continue to fight.

"I have not give up hope on Elenya," Glorfindel spoke solemnly.

A ghost of a smile flitted across Elrond's lips. Of course, the moment when he feared that it was indeed all too much, that Glorfindel really was too weary of Arda... he reminded Elrond why it was that the Valar selected him, why Elrond absorbed him into his home with hardly a second thought.

"No, I suspected not."

"I cannot believe that she is lost to me- to us."

"She does not seem the forgiving type," Elrond warned.

"But she is."

Elrond gave Glorfindel a questioning look, but the blond elf continued to speak, his tone becoming stronger and entire demeanor growing as he spoke.

"She was lost, alone, and afraid. When she was found, she was locked up and tortured. She endured, escaped, and hid. She could have returned to Mirkwood to fight, but she didn't." Glorfindel began to pace, back and forth he walked, completely ignoring his injured arm as he gave his soliloquy. "She was afraid and hurt to she isolated herself, she hid from all Eldar. And yet... when she saw me being attacked, when she saw impossible odds she stepped in and fought. She saved my life, nurtured me back to health while terrified of me. If she still truly hated the Eldar... she would have left me to die. Any sane creature would have left me to die with orcs instead of risking their life."

"And after her wolf was killed?"

"I- I don't know..."

"Please, my friend."

"I made a promise to her... I promised I would stand by her side, that I wouldn't allow harm to come to her. I need to find her-" Glorfindel's eyes flew wide, instantly reaching for his sword belt which laid across his end table.

"Glorfindel," Elrond spoke sharply, knocking the elf out of his haze. "What good do you think you will do chasing her? Remember your own words? If the One falls into the hands of the enemy than all is lost. There will be no world for you do find her in."

"But-"

"Beyond all reasoning and hope, your paths have crossed. I sense that when the time is right, the Valar will ensure your paths cross again."

Glorfindel hung his head, nodding in silent agreement.

"I will bear this burden," he spoke solely, raising his eyes to meet Elrond's. "I will do what I can to guide the Halfling across Arda and into the bowels of Mordor where I will see the One destroyed. Then... when there is once again a chance for peace, I will find Elenya and help her to truly heal."

"The Balrog Slayer and the Halfling," Elrond's lip curled into the slightest smile. "The Bearers of the Ring."

* * *

Evelyn and Nightshade wove their way through the woods, the treads of their feet soft soundless as they crept through the place that they once called home. Evelyn could hear the trees whispering at her return, a few of them carding out branches to brush through her hair. She hushed them gently, stroking a few in return and asked for them to hid her and her companion, to keep them a secret, to protect them as they once did.

Passing like wraiths in the woods, Evelyn and Nightshade neared the palace, they spent three days circling the massive fortress, learning the layout of the guards and counting the numbers in each patrol. Once satisfied that she had enough information, they set their sights on Dol Guldur. Evelyn was careful to announce herself to the Nazgul who stood guard over the gates first upon arrival. The slave of Sauron had heard of her coming and gave orders to the orcs; they would now follow her command. She walked out to the fields of the forest to view her new, temporary army.

Evelyn's lips curled in disgust at what she saw. And entire rabble of orcs and Uruks were "training" on the grounds of Dol Guldur. They bore crude weapons and were an unseeing and vicious crew, clubbing and slashing at each other with no true purpose or intention in their blows. For Evelyn, whose tonight style had always been one of precision and acuity, it was positively revolting.

"Attention!" she yelled and was promptly ignored by the creatures. Glaring daggers at the crude beasts, she realized that these were beings who were not controlled by order or commands... only chaos and strength. With that in mind she called upon that ball of light within her and slammed her fist against the ground, sending a tremble through the entire fortress as if the earth itself was quaking.

The beasts all froze.

"As I was saying," she continued to speak in a level tone as if she had not just forced the earth to tremble. "We are preparing for an attack on Mirkwood to capture a creature held within its walls."

"Aye," said one Uruk who thankfully seemed to speak common. "We know what we must do, and it'll be done."

"Are you their commander?"

"Yes."

Evelyn did her best to not avert her nose for he stank of rotting flesh.

"So tell me then, Uruk commander... what exactly is your plan?"

"We burn the trees and the little tree hoppers will come running."

"No," she quickly shut down that idea.

"Why not?!" The beast, clearly not one used to being questioned, roared back. The rest of the hoard rose in volume and tone, jeering at Evelyn, calling her a little bird, a weakling _snaga. _"What do you know of battles, little prey?" He leaned in close hand straying towards the large mace tucked into his belt. "You know nothing of battles you-"

He never finished his sentence for, quite suddenly, the Uruk-hai commander found a thin blade sliding out from between his ribs as he collapsed into a heap on the ground. In one fluid motion, Evelyn flicked the orc blood off her blade, wiped it on what remained of the Uruk commander's clothing, and resheathed her long knife.

"Would anyone else like to make a comment?" She asked in the same tone that she spoke with before. No one stepped forth. "Good," scanning her eyes across the crowd, she noticed an Uruk a bit smaller than the rest, he was wiry and covered in scars, but he still towered over the orcs below him. "You-" she pointed at the wiry Uruk. "Answer me well and you are the new commander."

The Uruk that she pointed to bowed without comment.

"How do you _usually_ attack the elves?"

"We- we burn the trees."

"And what to the elves do?"

"They put out the fires."

"And?"

"Shoot at us from the trees."

"Every time?"

"Yes."

"So what do you suppose would happen if you again, lit fire to the trees."

For a moment it seemed that she had stumped the creature as it scratched the back of its head in thought, squinting at the tree-tops as if it would find some answer from above.

"They would- they would put it out."

"And?"

"And shoot us from the trees."

Evelyn sighed and looked down at Nightshade who seemed as annoyed as she. The Uruk _did _get to the answer in the end... it had merely taken him far too long. She knew that the same plan that the Uruk and Orcs had used for hundreds of years would be ineffective. No, the Elves were far too clever to fall for such a poorly crafted ruse... not when they had hundreds of years of practice against it.

"You, you, you, and you," she called to four separate Uruks who all stood to attention. It seemed an act as simple as killing their leader was enough to bring the rough beasts in line. "Each of you will lead a group of orcs in the attack. Now, listen well to this plan for we have but one chance at obtaining the creature that we seek."

She heard a mumbling from her left.

"Pardon?" She asked, though she did not turn to look.

"I said why are we listning te yew," the rough tone of an orc replied.

Still without turning her head, Evelyn unsheathed her blade and slid it into the orc's guts, twisting a fraction of an inch and hitting something in him which made the foul orc scream and writhe in pain. She then withdrew the blade, and as the creature buckled forward, used the beast's own momentum to sever its head from its shoulders. Agains she flicked the blood off and resheathed her sword.

"Any other objections?" She asked cooly. There was a tangible silence in the air. "Good, lets get to work."

* * *

"Please, Lorien, there must be something you can do?!" Yavanna cried. The Lord of Dreams looked wretched, but he shook his head slowly.

"You know as well as I... I cannot access her mind."

"What other hope have we left?" Nienna shed a tear as she watched the young maiden training the crude orcs.

"It is not just the rules... I am unable to meet her in her dreams if she remains unwilling," Lorien looked exhausted for in truth, he had tried many a night to creep into the child's mind. Each time he was roughly pushed out, and the girl's own nightmares only worsened.

"I have spoken to Iluvatar," Varda said, returning to to her fellow Valar.

"And what say he?" Yavanna turned her attention to the Queen of the Stars.

"We have not been granted access to Arda... the actions of the coming age are for the children to face alone."

Yavanna began to weep openly. The child... she had suffered too much and for too long. There was a pain deep within her that could not be healed by simple means. They had failed.

"It was I who said that she should be sent to Lothlorien, home of Artanis... she would have been saved from all the pain and suffering she underwent if we placed her there!" Yavanna are furious, pointing an accusatory finger at Varda who inhaled sharply at the accusation.

"The darkened woods needed help... their King is the only amount the elves without a ring to protect them..." Varda tried to defend her line of thought.

"You have always played favorites with the Sindar King... look what he has done."

"What is done is done," Nienna cut in. "We must hold a council... all our fellows should partake in whatever decision we make next."

Lorien nodded in agreement.

"So we shall," Varda replied.

But Yavanna, Yavanna was staring into the distance, eyes on the tiny figure training the orcs in strategy far superior than any they had known. Varda had insisted on sending her to Mirkwood in the hopes that she would save the children who lived there. Instead, they crafted her into a deadly weapon.

"Oh child," she whispered too quietly for the other Valar to hear. "I am sorry."


	33. Chapter 33

Evelyn was crouched low in the branches of a tree. She knew that several meters off, Nightshade was crouched beneath a thicket, waiting for her signal. So long as those stupid orcs obeyed her orders, the patrol guarding the creature would be occupied enough. She would deal with fetching Gollum to fulfill her bargain later... for now she had a King to visit.

Closing her eyes she inhaled and exhaled deeply. The past weeks had been filled with nightmares and turmoil as her mind attempted to wrap itself around the idea of being back in Mirkwood, of dwelling once more in the spider infested canopy of trees where she could feel darkness like a crawling itch all over her skin. Every second she spent in those woods were hell. Every second brought back memories of cold shackles and arrogant kings... of lies, treachery, and false friendship all for nought. She inhaled and exhaled again.

_I can do this. _

She released a long, low whistle and watched in delight as a small smoke stack rose up from a few leagues off. Immediately, it caught the attention of the elves she was watching and they sounded a horn in alarm. More came sprinting out and, when they saw that the smoke stacks were moving, they gave chase.

Evelyn and Nightshade remained in their hiding place, watching as more and more elves poured out from the fortress doors, chasing smoke stacks moving at full speed in coincidentally the exact opposite direction of the patrol guarding Gollum. She allowed them to empty out a bit further, counting the number of elves chasing a fire moving far too quickly to be natural. She chuckled in delight at the panic she saw across the faces of a few of the elves. On her orders, the orcs hadn't launched a single attack in the weeks that she had been present in the forest. The paranoid King was probably at his whits end waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Evelyn would hate to disappoint.

When it seemed that all the elves who could be spared had left the grand halls, Evelyn rose from her hiding place and released a much higher pitched whistle. From all around her orcs emerged like shadows in the night and lit their own blazing torches. The elves had been in such a foolish rush to save their precious trees that they had left the gates unguarded. Stretching her wings wide, Evelyn lept from the tree and soared downward, swooping at the gates and blasting them open with one powerful stroke of her wings. She landed lightly and gazed at the empty halls, laughing at how easy it was to trick the elves. But, she knew that they weren't completely stupid. Hearing Nightshade's claws click against the stone floor as she approached Evelyn's side, she reached out one hand to brush the wolf's coat.

"The elves are already being taken care of by team 2... I want you to burn this place to the ground."

With a wild shout the orcs obeyed her orders, their leading Uruk translated her words and they all screeched in delight, racing forward with their torches to set fire to the drapes and tapestries handing throughout the grand halls. Thranduil's home might have been built of stone, but it was filled with enough wood and cloth to scorch beyond all recognition.

Evelyn and Nightshade payed the beasts no mind however, they had their sights set on grander things.

Leaping into flight, Evelyn was followed close begin by her loyal friend as they raced down a path that Evelyn knew well. The scent of smoke and burning cloth was already permeating the air as the orcs kept whichever elves remained in the halls occupied with battling the flames. Orcs didn't know the passages of the Elven King and thus, none bothered to guard her path.

A dangerous and arrogant mistake.

Through the chaos, the flames and the shouts of battle they raced with one sole purpose on their minds. Evelyn knew that her time was limited, she knew that the elves would only be distracted for so long before they figured out her plan. Thus, she pushed awards, faster and faster, down every corridor, across every archway, and through every twist and turn until finally, they reached the throne room.

Only two guards stood at the closed doors, all others had run to help beat off the orcs and fight the fires. Evelyn smirked slowly. Oh how the elves always underestimated her. As she approached though, Evelyn's smirk turned to a manic grin. She recognized the elves beneath their helms.

"My, it has been such a _long _time since we last met," she spat her words. Beside her, Nightshade was growling low for she could sense the emotions welling up within Evelyn.

"Who goes there?!" the elf on the left called. They were those who Evelyn always referred to in her mind as the "oak brothers" and, as with all elves, they hadn't changed in the slightest.

"You don't remember me?" Evelyn smiled a dangerously sweet smile. "How could you forget your one and favorite prisoner?"

As she spoke, she lifted her wings to their full, impressive height as they rose above her. As she stood there, wings aloft, stolen blades in her hand, and deadly wolf by her side, she felt like some sort of avenging- no- fallen angel. Once she wanted nothing more than to help the elves, help all the free peoples of Middle Earth in their quest agains the darkness. But now... now she just wanted them to burn.

"Crebain!" The elder brother called as he lifted his blade.

"Ah, now you see." She paused for half a second as both brothers advanced. "I come for your King, not his pawns. Move aside and beat out the flames before your home is burned." The elves didn't give any indication that they heard, only advancing further. "We tried," she shrugged and looked to Nightshade, a quick flick of her eyes was all the wolf needed to obey.

Nightshade ducked low to the ground as Evelyn opened her wings and beat them hard, one massive gust of wind knocking both nimble elves off their feet. Before they could recover, Evelyn sliced through the achilles tendons and had her blade sheathed in the abdomen of the younger, watching in delight as the elder was set upon by Nightshade. Knowing that the other was thoroughly occupied, Evelyn turned her attention back to the elf at the end of her blade. He was frozen in place, breaths coming in light- barely there pants as he watched the way her long knife twisted slowly, inching dangerously close to his spleen.

"Did you know that humans and elves have almost the exact same internal anatomy?" she leaned close to whisper her words into the horrified elf's ear. "If I slip... just a little bit right here... I can destroy your spleen. Now of course... such is not a fatal wound if you're treated by someone who understand trauma surgery. They would have to remove the organ and then you'd probably want to retire as you'd be very prone to infection." She heard the struggles of the other elf and Nightshade die down and she didn't bother to check who would be victorious- she already knew the answer.

"But the blood-loss," she continued as she leaned just a bit harder on her blade. "That would certainly be fatal as I doubt you've developed blood transfusions." She watched the panic filtering through his eyes, she same panic that she had felt as he stood outside her prison cell. But, she relented. Withdrawing her blade smoothly, she stood and gazed down at the elf before her. He was alive, bleeding heavily but with enough care he would survive. Next to him, his older brother was unconscious and mangled almost beyond recognition, but Nightshade had let him off easy.

"Don't ever forget," she hissed as the younger elf crawled towards his brother, dragging his unresponsive feet behind him. "That your actions have consequences. Forget about your King... his choices led you here this day. Take your brother and leave before this place burns to the ground... and though you won't walk again you both might just survive."

Turning their backs on the pair of guards, Evelyn and Nightshade proceeded to the throne room. Part of Evelyn wanted to see the two elves who once delighted so much in her imprisonment dead... but she knew that there was a time when all she wished for was death, and they didn't even have the mercy of granting her that. No, she would let them live and suffer the consequences of their actions for all that remained of their immortal lives.

Plus, she was on a time crunch. She had a King to deal with.

* * *

Eight great thrones were set in a circle around a vast table for the Aratar, the High Ones of the Valar. Each throne was crafted in such a way to honor its owner's domain. Manwe the King of the Valar, Varda Queen of the Stars, Ulmo Lord of the Sea, Aule the Smith, Orome the Great Rider, Mandos Judge of the Dead, Nienna Lady of Mercy, and Yavanna Giver of Fruits all sat together beneath the shining light of Valinor. For the first time since Melkor was thrown from their ranks, a ninth chair was pulled up alongside the council, for Lorien Master of Dreams and Desires was to be included in this affair.

In the distance, the songs of those elves dwelling in the Undying Lands could be heard as they sang in praise of Eru and his watchful power over their kin still in Middle Earth. The song was a beautiful and melodious one with elvish voices singing alongside harps and flutes. Most of the greatest minstrels of the Eldar had been reborn from Mandos' Halls and thus roamed the shores of Valinor with their companions. For them, the past was the past and they were able to mingle with those who their kin might once have slaughtered. Most would have been struck by the sound of their voices, moved to tears by their devout love and faith in their creator.

The mood in the Council of the Aratar was somber.

"I believe that we are all aware on what has gathered us this day," Varda spoke slowly, weight carried in her words.

"Darkness is descending on Middle Earth," Manwe said. "Darkness that Eru refuses to intervene in."

"The fate of Middle Earth lies in the hands of the children," Mandos this time spoke. "We must remember our duties-"

"To not deprive the children of their free will, to not dominate or intimidate, to not kill or force," Manwe continued Mandos' words. "These are the duties set before us... we may only act within them."

"And yet we sent the Child?" Orome asked.

"Yes," Mandos said. "For her destiny lied in Middle Earth. What that destiny is... remains hidden from me. Only the eyes of Eru know what she is to become."

"But the Child has chosen the wrong side-" Varda began to speak but was cut off by Yavanna.

"No quite-" her voice had slight edge to it. "She has not chosen a side in this battle. She made a deal... yes tis true that she struck a bargain... but she knows that Sauron is nothing but evil. She made a deal with him because he was only one who offered."

"I think she is more filled with grief than anger," Nienna was as soft in her speech as her domain implied. Yet, whenever she spoke the other Valar listened. "But grief... grief can go many ways."

"She is as unpredictable as my waves," Ulmoe had a slightly chagrinned smile. "How can we say where her heart lies."

"I know she is good," Yavanna insisted, but was cut off by Aule.

"She has been corrupted! There is no hope left for her now!" Aule's voice boomed through the halls and rattled the very stones of the room. "She has turned her back on us."

"Ah yes... you would know of corruption, Aule," Yavanna's voice was dangerously smooth. "Who else among us is so well aquatinted with corruption and betrayal as you?"

"Yavanna, that is enough," Manwe warned, though his voice lacked its usual weight.

Both Sauron and Saruman once were servants of Aule and the sting of their betrayal was still an open wound. For a while, no one spoke. But it was Yavanna, who broke the silence with a far softer voice than she used on Aule.

"How can we say she turned her back on us... when she never knew us?"

"And whose fault is that?"

"Brother," Mandos broke the palpable tension in the air. "There is nothing you can do to reach her mind?"

"You know as well as I," Lorien spoke for the first time since the council convened. "That her mind is destined to be shielded from my powers. I am as unable to access her mind unwilling as I am to access yours without your consent."

"And Eru will not allow us to descend to Middle Earth?" Nienna asked, looking expectantly at Manwe.

"No. This is to be determined by the actions of the children."

"The Wood King has failed in his guardianship," Orome pointed out.

"Then we must rely on the Golden One to save her soul," Varda made a pointed look towards Lorien.

"I can send him a message... a piece of guidance and hope."

"Hope is all we can ask for," Nienna smiled sadly. "Hope is what the Child needs most."

"We must _hope _that it is not too late," Aule frowned at the decision.

"I have faith in her. Her road is hard and we turned our backs on her long before she turned from us. She must- she will prevail." And with those words from Yavanna, the council dispersed... each to their own tasks for the coming days would be challenging. The coming times would determine the future of Arda.

**Side note: **

**In this version of Middle Earth, the only married ones among the Valar are Manwe and Varda.**


	34. Chapter 34

Evelyn drew her bow and knocked an arrow, one last glance of reassurance to Nightshade before she pushed open the grand doors of the throne room with one thrust of her wings.

There, sitting tense and ready on his throne was him, the one who didn't believe, who mocked, belittled, and imprisoned Evelyn all those years ago...

Thranduil.

"Don't move," she yelled. The elven King took one glance at pair and reached for the sword at his hip. Before his hand got halfway there however, Evelyn let loose the arrow from her bow, watching as it flew straight and embedded itself in the King's shoulder. The elf let out a small gasp of pain, but paused his motions, eyes unreadable as he glared at Evelyn.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance," he hissed.

The King wore his crown, a thorny monstrosity decorated by the colorful leaves of the changing season. He seemed unperturbed by the arrow protruding from his shoulder and remained perfectly still, ignoring the blood seeping down his arm. The sight of him made Evelyn sick.

"Then we were both fools that day," Evelyn replied with a slight smirk. "For at that time, I would've done anything to help you win the upcoming war. I was ready to tell you everything you needed to know to fight back against the darkness encroaching on Mirkwood."

"And now?"

"Now I want to watch your kingdom burn."

"It takes much more than one Crebain to bring down a kingdom that has survived against the darkness for centuries."

"You're stalling," Evelyn spoke plainly, watching as a slight frown twitched in the King's eyes. "Don't worry, your soldiers are occupied. Do you smell that?"

Just as she asked, the scent became clear... burning. In the distance screams and sharp orders could be heard as the elves were in chaos. Never before had their stone halls been breeched by orcs. No one knew how many they were, where, or how they got in. All they knew was that orcs were running rampant and everything was burning.

"What have you done?!" Thranduil roared and reached for his sword with his other hand this time.

Once again, Evelyn fired an arrow which pierced his palm, fixing his hand to his throne just as his shoulder was. Evelyn delighted in the slight gasp of pain as the delicate tissue of the elf's hand was pierced by her obsidian arrowhead. His eyes turned fierce as he roared out an order for guards, but none came.

"Shut up," she leveled another arrow at him. "Shut up and for once in your miserable life... listen!"

"How dare you enter my halls and order me you Crebain! Do you know what-"

He was silence by another arrow which pinned his left calf to his throne. The King gritted his teeth through the pain, but he remained silent.

"See," Evelyn took a few steps closer, followed behind by Nightshade who was guarding her back in case any guards did happen to enter the hall. "This is your problem... you just don't know how to _listen_. You didn't when I was here last time, and you still refuse to now. You're as arrogant as your father-"

"Silence-"

Another arrow pierced his other leg, causing the King to clamp his mouth shut.

"As I was saying... you're as arrogant as your father. For wasn't it King Oropher who was stupid and so pig-headed that he refused to obey the order of the High King and thus... sent his troops into battle early, slaughtering so may of his own subjects unnecessarily? Now, you do the same thing. You could have listened to me when I was a wide-eyed child. You could've had the keys to victory handed to you. But, instead you let your pride dictate your ruling and thus you condemned you own people."

Evelyn paused her diatribe for a moment to admire the view. The elven King had all four of his limbs restrained via her arrows embedded deeply into the monstrosity that he called a throne. His robes that day were a deep amber and despite the fresh wounds, his expression was nothing but cold fury. He was like a pinned butterfly, beautiful and trapped. As expected Thranduil looked as elegant and perfect as he did that day when Evelyn was first thrown at the foot of his massive throne, not a single line on his face had changed for such is the way of the elves... like Dorian Gray they remain fair and youthful no matter their sins.

Such was not the case for Evelyn. She was scarred heavily from her ankles and wrists which bore the old marks of manacles to the twisted line of flesh that once boiled in the pain of spider's venom. She was marked in every way by her time with the elves, marks that would never fade from her body.

She hated that the King was unmarked.

"You know," Evelyn continued to speak. "I wanted to kill you. For so long there was nothing that I wanted more than to kill you and watch your corpse rot."

"You're taking an exceedingly long time to-"

Another arrow, this time to his gut and Evelyn smiled in satisfaction as she finally drew a real reaction- a choked of scream as her weapon found its target.

"I could easily do it now," she continued as if he hadn't spoke. "But then I remembered the days during my captivity when I wanted nothing more than death and you refused to grant me even that... going as far as forcing food down my throat to keep me alive in hell. Now... I think I'll return the favor."

Evelyn reached into the little pouch tied to her waist and pulled forth two items: an oil soaked rag, and a pice of flint. She placed her bow on the ground and withdrew a knife, walking slowly up the steps to Thranduil's throne. The elf watched her with fierce focus as she drew closer. When she was close enough to touch him, Evelyn could swear her heart would beat out of her chest. She forced the tremble out of her hand as she wretched the crown from his head and replaced it with the rag still dripping with oil. She then took a step back and scanned her eyes across the scene, desperately trying to commit it to memory.

Perhaps, if she could remember this image... then the image of his cold and calculating glare as he sent her to the dungeons would fade from her nightmares. She was sick of seeing his face whenever she closed her eyes for too long. She wanted to remember this version of him... cowed and weak, sitting on the precipice of destruction.

"I've heard..." she drawled as she wrapped a small piece of specially soaked cloth around her arrowhead. "That you once faced the great serpents of the north in battle... that you fought in dragon flame." With those words she used the flint to light the cloth, stringing the burning arrow to her bow. "The scars of dragon fire never truly fade from an elf... do they still pain you?"

"Take care with what you do next, Crebain... for you may soon find yourself regretting your action."

"I have many regrets... this is not one of them."

With that, she let the arrow fly and watched at the elven King flinched when it embedded itself two inches away from his flowing hair. The flames began to eat away at the wood throne, smoldering and slowly lighting the wood afire.

Evelyn took one last, long look at the King pinned by her arrows to his own throne, wearing a crown of cloth, and with a deadly flame creeping closer and closer to his doom. She committed the sight to memory before turning her back on the King and walking out, calling over her shoulder as she went.

"I'll send you son to fetch you. Depending on how quick he is... maybe he'll arrive before you've been completely burned. I suppose you'll just have to wait and see."

Evelyn was careful to close the door behind her, sliding a metal spear between the two doorknobs in order to seal the throne room shut. With a nod of satisfaction in seeing that her first two victims had fled, she turned to Nightshade.

"It's time to move."

With a nod from the wolf the pair took off, sprinting through the flaming halls that were now being filled with smoke. They ignored any elves or orcs that they saw for they had but one goal in mind... the very thing that they came for.

Upon reaching the fresh air outside, the pair slit up, Evelyn taking to the sky and Nightshade springing through the underbrush. If everything had gone to plan, then a small group of orcs bearing smoking torches would have created the illusion of orcs burning down the trees drawn the attention of the party guarding Gollum to lead them on a merry chase away from the Halls. Then, by the time the elves would be able to overtake and kill the small group, they would have reached the ambush sight where more orcs could occupy them.

_If_ the orcs were smart enough to follow Evelyn's careful planning, then she should be arriving at the sight of a rather fierce battle quite soon.

Seeing the clearing of the ambush sight in the distance, Evelyn swooped down and landed in a rather well hidden tree a little ways off from the battle where she could watch. The fighting was indeed fierce for while the elves were far more skilled than the orcs, the orcs had numbers, surprise, and their surroundings to their advantage.

Scanning her eyes quickly over the scene, Evelyn as able to identify the blond head of Legolas who stood at the base of a tree, firing off arrows as the creature Gollum remained in the branches above him. Evelyn pulled the crown that she had yanked off the King's head and nocked an arrow to her bow, drawing it back and leveling it carefully.

Even with the heavy crown hanging from it, the arrow flew true and embedded itself in the tree right above the elf's head.

Legolas stared at the familiar crown hanging over his head. His eyes widened in shock as he swung his head wildly, attempting to find where it came from. Evelyn obligingly stepped forward, out of the shade of the tree's leaves.

"You!" He gasped. Several of the elves in his party noticed the interaction and gazed at the crown in shock as well.

"I told you that you would pay for you actions. More specifically... your father."

"How did you-" he reached for an arrow, but found his quiver already empty.

"I suggest you hurry home... your father has found himself a bit... trapped."

"Fall back! To the King," Legolas cried, his elves immediately obeying, running back towards the Halls, killing only the orcs that gave chase.

Gollum took his chance and dropped from the tree, sprinting into the undergrowth in the opposite direction of the elves. For a moment, Legolas looked torn, head pivoting between the direction where Gollum disappeared and the Halls of his father. His hands twitched over the handles of his twin blades, Evelyn could feel his indecision.

"I suggest you move quickly or else your father will once again be well acquainted with fire."

Those words were all the encouragement Legolas needed to ignore Gollum and take off through the trees, moving like a minnow through a sleek stream as he darted towards the Halls of King Thranduil. A single nod from Evelyn was all the encouragement that the orcs needed to continue to give chase.

They would be slaughtered quickly for the the elven warriors chasing the first distraction party would probably be arriving at the Halls at the same time as them, but Evelyn couldn't be bothered to care. The orcs were a tool and nothing more.

Now, there was only one step left for her plan... the last piece that she needed before she could leave and never step foot in Mirkwood again. Leaning her head back, she released a series of short howls, pausing and closing her eyes as she listened. Then, the same series was repeated back to her and she dropped to the ground, sprinting in that direction. She followed the sounds of the howls until she came upon the scene of Nightshade growling fiercely at a small hollow at the base of a tree.

When she neared, she found Gollum hunched over at the base, spitting curses back at the wolf. Without any ceremony, Evelyn stepped forward and scooped the creature into a sack which she quickly tied off. With her prize in hand, the elves distracted, and Thranduil finally brought down, Evelyn finally smiled in triumph.

She turned to Nightshade who seemed to be smiling as well.

They did it.

The rest of their journey was relatively uneventful. The pair traveled nonstop until they reached Dol Guldur where they deposited the still squirming and cursing sack at the foot of one of the Nazgul. Evelyn fixed the wraith with a fierce glare, ignoring the utter wrongness that she could feel exhuming from the creature of darkness.

"Tell your master that I have fulfilled my end of our bargain. I never want to hear from him again."

Without waiting for a response, Evelyn and Nightshade turned, leaving the dark fortress and heading for the edge of the woods. They were finally done with Mirkwood. Evelyn fulfilled her bargain and got her revenge.

She was done with the elves.

* * *

Glorfindel opened his eyes and found himself in a familiar place- his gardens in Gondolin. Normally he would be very confused considering that he was there when Godoling fell, he watched the lilacs and roses of his garden burst into flames as a Balrog tore through them.

But, for some bizarre reason, he wasn't at all concerned with this strange turn of events. Instead... he felt completely at ease. The climbing trellises of morning glory formed a beautiful arch over his head as sunlight filtered down to warm his skin. Birds were singing as they flitted from branch to branch, stealing seeds from the massive sunflowers that were almost as high as the stone walls. Gorfindel found his hand drawn to caress the petals of a beautiful chrysanthemum blossom.

His feet began to pull him in the direction of his fountains and he followed obligingly. When he got there he sat down upon the edge and traced his fingers through the cool water, relishing the peace and serenity of the place. In truth, he hadn't felt so peaceful in what seemed like centuries.

"A fitting place, I thought," a voice spoke and Glorifndel looked up in surprise to see a tall, broad soldered elf with star-white hair.

"My Lord Irmo," he dropped to his knees and bowed.

"None of that now child," he gently admonished. "Come, walk with me."

Glorfindel stood and followed the Valar of Dreams as they walked through the all too familiar gardens. He waited respectful for the Valar to initiate the conversation.

"I remember," his voice was soft, but low and musical in the way that one would imagine the voice of a dream to be. "When you were but an elfling how you loved my gardens in Valinor. You would sprint through the place, kicking up dirt but never hurting the flowers which grew there."

"You have always been most generous in sharing their beauty," Glorfindel smiled gently. "This is a dream... isn't it?"

"They call me Lorien for a reason," the Valar smiled gently. "But yes, sadly this is a place that now lives only in dreams."

"I miss it," Glorfindel whispered.

"I know... but you can always visit it in your dreams."

"I suppose so..." Glorfindel hesitated, thinking over how to properly phrase his next statement. "Is there is reason why you've brought me here?"

Lord Irmo smiled gently- it was a small, sad smile. He allowed his hand to caress the bark of a tree that they passed before he turned to Glorfindel and spoke.

"I am afraid that the news I have is not good... the child who rescued you-"

"Elenya! Was she sent by you? Why?"

"Ah, yes, the name you've made for her. She was sent by the Aratar, for what purpose I cannot reveal. But," Irmo paused his speech for a moment. "She is on a terrible path now. The Child has lost hope and fallen into despair. She dances on the edge of darkness and makes unwise alliances."

"What must I do?"

"You must hold the hope that she has lost. Her fate is uncertain, it lies clouded from even us... but her impact will be catastrophic. Whether that is a catastrophic good or evil shall all depend upon her path. She needs hope."

"Hope?"

Irmo paused and turned to face Glorfindel, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked deeply into the elf's eyes and Glorfindel felt like his soul was being searched and rifled through... it was a strange but not altogether unpleasant feeling.

"You are a beacon of light and hope in Middle Earth. You must shine that hope upon your Elenya. She is falling into darkness, but so long as you hold up the light of hope, she shall not fall entirely into darkness. You must show her that there is still light in the world."

"I swear that I shall do all I can," Glorfindel once more dropped to his knees, palm across his heart as he bowed his forehead to the ground at Lord Irmo's feet.

"I know you will," the Master of Dreams crouched down before the elf, lifting his head gently with a finger. He smiled and placed two fingers against Glorfindel's forehead. "Sleep now, wander through you home from ages past and then awaken with new hope in your heart."

Glorfindel felt his eyes closing and fell into a deep and restful sleep, where he walked through his ancient home in Valinor. For the first time in what seemed like ages, his sleep was unhindered by nightmares of fire and gaping chasms.


	35. Chapter 35

"Ada! Ada!" Legolas screamed as he sprinted through the burning halls. All around him, elves, having killed the last of the invading orcs, were spilling forth from the mouth of the massive cave bearing any possessions they could grab in time. Smoke was billowing in great swaths and causing Legolas' eyes to water. His lungs were seizing on the heavy air and the acrid scent of burning cloth assaulted his nose. Even the stone beneath his feet, usually cool earth, was nearly hot to the touch as the intensity of the flames rose.

Vaguely, he could hear a captain shouting orders for the evacuation. It seemed that they had given up hopes of saving the Halls and instead were intent on ensuring that everyone made it out alive. Legolas trusted his soldiers to take care of such things, he had only one goal in mind.

Finally, he rounded the last bend in the winding corridors which led to the throne room of his father. He found crimson blood stains were guards were usually stationed and a metal spear sealing the door shut. He yanked the spear from its spot and pushed against the doors with all his might. But, the heat had warmed the hinges and sealed it shut. Giving a roar of fury Legolas lept into the air and slammed his shoulder against the door. Again it stood strong. He gave a cry of pain as he knew, on some base level instinct that one has for those they love, that his father was on the other side.

"Ada!" he screamed again, slamming himself into the door. At this point his shoulder was bloody from he abuse, but he didn't care. "Ada! I'm coming!"

He paused and took a deep breath, walking back several paces. He stood there and glared at the door, willing it to bend beneath the fury of an Eldar's gaze. He then lunges forward, sprinting as fast as he could and slamming his shoulder into the doors. Finally, they gave a mighty groan and slowly inched open. That opening was all the Legolas needed as he shoved through the small crack and came upon a sight that filled him with horror.

His was was seated- no- pinned to his chair with a series of black fletched arrows. On his head was a cloth dripping in something that caused the flames spreading across his robes to shoot up with every droplet. Fire was all around him.

His grand throne looked like a raging bonfire, his robes were burning as flames licked up his sides, and his face was frozen in terror and agony as the fire nearly kissed his brow.

Pausing for only a moment of shock, Legolas lept into action. He raced towards the fire and, ignoring the cries of pain which he new his father would never utter in the presence of any other, he wretched each arrow from his body. Then, he yanked Thranduil down and beat out the flames on his clothes until his own hands were blackened from the fire. He had no time to access the condition of his King for the fires were growing and threatening to choke both of them.

Acting as carefully as he could, Legolas scooped the tall frame of his father into his arms and began running out. He was met halfway through the halls by a group of guards who had returned to find them. The guards took one look at the hand conscious form of King Thranduil in Legolas' arms and turned to escort the pair out with grim expressions on their faces. As soon as they made it past the front doors, they were greeted by a herd of worried elves who were quickly shooed away by the guards surrounding Legolas. He had grown up with and trained with many of the elven soldiers and they knew that now was not the time to crowd their prince. Instead, Borneth, one of the senior captains below Legolas began barking out orders.

The other elves were quick to comply with the demands of the fiery haired elf as she arranged for soldiers to begins setting up and fortifying camps for the elves to reside in, organizing healers into squadrons, and arranging for the movement of elves and surviving goods alike. The called for a large tent to be immediately set up where Legolas took his father and laid him down on one of the precious few cloths they had. Guards stood silently in a circle around the tent with grim set eyes as they waited for a healer. For what felt like an eternity but was truthfully but a few minutes, Legolas sat on the ground beside his father who, at that point, had mercifully fallen into slumber. He tenderly brushed a stray strand of platinum hair, singed at the ends, away from his father's burned face. The wounds were sever and while Legolas knew enough of healing to keep himself alive while on patrols, he was no true healer.

A soft spoken voice begged entry at the door and Legolas called her in. Nestoriel, the senior healer of Mirkwood entered the tent with a large swath of bandages in her arms. Behind her, a small group of soldiers carried forth buckets of clean water, herbs, salves, and other supplies that she would need. They bowed respectfully to Legolas and turned to exit, but one older guard who Legolas knew well paused at the exit, his eyes were fixed on their King who was lying motionless, barely breathing. For a brief moment, Legolas almost snapped at him, a sharp demand for him to find something useful to do was at the tip of his tongue when he stopped.

It was Erthor- he was an older elf of the Second Age. He had battled alongside Thranduil when the King had been a prince. He was there the day the dragons came.

This was his second time seeing Thranduil burned near death.

Legolas found himself lost for words, content to merely nod his head in the direction of the veteran who returned the gesture before exiting the tent. He then turned his attention fully towards his father who still breathed laboriously beneath his burns. Nestoriel began gently ordering Legolas around, having him help her cut away what fabric they could, and bath the remains scraps of cloth with water in an effort to loosen them. She spoke gently but firmly, treating Legolas as if he were any one of her assistants. For that he was grateful.

His father was injured to near death, his home had been burned, a prisoner that he swore to guard was free, and everything was left to his shoulders. He was the only prince, the only heir to the throne. While his father was unable, he was to rule in his place.

Legolas had not the slightest idea how he was to do so.

"He will heal," Nestoriel whispered.

Legolas blinked in surprise, the healer's words having snapped him out of the growing panic swirling in his mind. He gave the Nestoriel the closest thing to a smile that he could manage at the moment. She merely nodded back and continued to apply a soothing balm to Thranduil's wounds. She, like most healers, seemed to have a sixth sense for when someone was in distress. It seemed that her words helped to sooth Legolas as he returned to his task of dripping clean water over his father's wounds.

"How long-"

"It will take time," she spoke slowly, carding her fingers through what remained of Thranduil's hair. "The fire has touched his fea so it will never be truly gone... but he will be strong once more."

"He has to be," Legolas whispered, more to himself than the healer.

"I have known your father since well before your birth," though her tone was somber there was a slight twinkle in her eyes. "I have known no stronger. He will heal."

Legolas nodded, his hands barely trembling as he drizzled more water over scorched skin.

* * *

Evelyn and Nightshade were traveling northeast with the intention of skirting the Lonely Mountain and moving to the Northern Waste. It was a barren and desolate landscape, but she was under the impression that there would be enough game for the pair of them to survive. There would be lean times ahead, but until the Free Peoples of Middle Earth overthrow Sauron and the elves leave, there were far too many peoples moving about for her to be comfortable. She and Nightshade simply wanted peace. They had each other for company and needed nothing more.

Their peaceful walk was interrupted by Nightshade's ears suddenly flickering to life. Evelyn froze with one hand on Nightshade's haunches and the other on her blade. The growl that Nightshade released was more annoyed than angry and thus, Evelyn assumed that whoever was approaching was relatively harmless. Not one to take chances still, Evelyn didn't allow her hand to stray from her blade as an obvious voice drew closer.

Soon she could hear said voice rather clearly. It was far too rusted in sound to be that of an elf, but not quite right for a man. The voice was singing a slightly crude but rather jovial tune about a particular night out at the tavern. Before long, a lone figure emerged from behind a bluff. It was a short and broad shouldered little man with a thick beard and a rather large axe. It took Evelyn a few too many moments to realize that the figure approaching was no man, but instead a dwarf.

She froze in indecision. There was no cover nearby and no settlements for miles around. She could easily take to the sky and no man, elf, or dwarf would ever be fast enough to catch Nightshade when she ran, but something forced Evelyn to pause. She remained in place with one hand on her short sword until the dwarf drew close enough to notice them. He did a strange double take upon seeing her and then lifted a hand, waving it cheerfully.

Hesitantly, she returned the gesture in a half hearted wave. The dwarf smiled broadly at this and drew closer until she could get a good look at him.

"Afternoon Lass," he called in a voice with a strange accent. "What brings a maiden out here all on her- Sweet Mahal that's a wolf!" The dwarf jumped back and gripped his axe, eyes wide with concern. "Get back here Lass," he whispered, eyes never straying from Nightshade. "I won't let the beast hurt you."

Evelyn couldn't help herself- she laughed. It was the first true, genuine laugh that he had released in a long while as she watched the way the dwarf gripped at his axe handle. Beside her, Nightshade merely tilted her own head in curiosity at the strange being.

"Don't fret, she's a friend," she explained, gently patting Nightshade's back in an encouragement for her to sit. The wolf comply and tilted her head to allow Evelyn to scratch her ears.

"Well... I suppose if she ain't eating anyone then there's no harm done," he mumbled half to himself, scratching at his beard lightly. "Say," his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You aren't and elf... are you."

Evelyn's mind froze. On one hand, she was still wearing a cloak that covered her wings, so there was no way that he knew that about her. On the other, her hood was up and surly he must only be suspicious of her due to that. Deciding, for some absurd reason, to trust this strange dwarf, she reached up and slowly lowered her hood.

"Ah, a daughter of Man," he hummed.

"The elves hold no love for wolves... they slaughtered her family," she gestured to Nightshade who seemed perfectly at ease with the dwarf who still seemed a bit apprehensive. To Evelyn, Nightshade's trust was good enough of an indicator that this being meant no harm.

"Oh I know a thing or two about the elves. Can't say I'm too fond of them myself. But, where're my manners? Gloin, son of Groin, at yer service." He bowed smartly and looked up at Evelyn with a somewhat expectant gaze.

"I'm called Raven."

"Ah, funny name, Raven." He said, though not unkindly. "Good omens, ravens ye know. They're good friends of my people in Erebor."

Evelyn allowed that to sit, not knowing how or being willing to respond. For a while the dwarf seemed at ease in the silence, patiently waiting. Eventually, he spoke.

"So, what brings a lass out to the wilds with her wolf friend?"

"I had business to attend to."

"Did you succeed?"

"Yes," she smiled at the memory of Mirkwood burning.

"Then how about some good food to celebrate?" As he spoke he was already pulling items out of his bag and kicking aside small stones to sit down.

Evelyn wasn't quite convinced. _What makes this dwarf trust me so? Is it some trap? _

"Come on then Lass, the misses packed me enough for a whole army of dwarves. One skinny thing like you will hardly dent it."

"I've heard that dwarves are a suspicious people," she spoke cautiously, hand straying towards her blade once more. "We are not friends."

"No," his gaze turned calculating for a brief moment before settling back to his seemingly jovial mood. "But I've been on enough quests to know the look of one who's just completed one. And I also know the look of someone who hasn't broken bread with another in far too long a time. Sit, eat."

With that, Evelyn slowly crept forward and sat near his little makeshift picnic. The dwarf, Gloin, made no move to prod Evelyn for questions. Instead, he merely set about digging into the food, tossing another roll or slice of dried meat in Evelyn's direction whenever she seemed to slow in eating. The silence was comfortable for a while, but then Gloin stared to speak. Much to Evelyn's surprise however, he didn't bother to question her. Instead, he seemed content to ramble on his own.

"Dangerous times these are, specially to be walking around alone. Mind you, I can take care of myself... doesn't stop the misses from worrying though." He paused for a moment to sip mead from his wineskin. "But I've been on Middle Earth long enough to know the signs of trouble. Something dark's brewing and there's a stinking stain coming from Mirkwood." At that point he grumbled something about "arrogant, pansy elf kings" and Evelyn couldn't help but pipe in.

"I can't say I'm fond of the elvenking myself."

"See," he smiled broadly. "Knew you were a clever lass. Anyhow, I've seen trouble and trouble's what I'm sensing. I've got a feeling that you know a fair bit about trouble... probably caused your fair share of it." He held up a hand suddenly as Evelyn opened her mouth. "Now I ain't asking you about what you've been up to. I don't need to know. A dwarf- er lass', business is there own. But my son... oh that boy's gonna be the death of me. Ready to go off on a quest like his old man he is? He's a fine lad, don't get me wrong, but green around the ears."

Suddenly, it hit her. The flaming red hair, the all too familiar axe, and the strangely familiar name. He was Gloin, son of Groin, father of Gimli. His son was supposed to become one of the Fellowship... a body that may or may not prove to exist.

"The lad's a fine warrior yes... but he's hardly traveled from Erebor. He's grown up there so much he doesn't remember much else."

"Your son is strong?" Evelyn didn't know why, but she found herself speaking.

"Oh he's strong and then some... good dwarfish stock he is."

"Is he a fighter?"

"Ain't been bested in three decades."

"Do you think he's sensible?"

"Ach, you know how it it. Hot temper, but he's got a good head on his shoulders."

"Then I suppose all that he is lacking is experience. How is one to get that without chance?"

Gloin titled his head in thought, scratching his beard roughly.

"You make a fair point Lass. I suppose he's gonna need to leave the mountain eventually."

They finished the rest of the meal in silence. Eventually, Evelyn could find no more excuses to tarry in the company of the one amicable being that she had met so far. She stood, brushing crumbs from her lap and thanking the dwarf who insisted that she stop to share his food.

"Best of luck Lass, my Gimli owes his next adventure to you. I hope you succeed in yours."

"I already did."

"My brother's always been the better one at reading... signs," he spoke slowly, eyes scanning over Evelyn and Nightshade. "But I picked up a thing or two. You look the type to be on a quest... on some mission or another. Ain't my business, but I wish you well."

With those words he lifted his heavy laden sack and launched into another song, ambling along his merry way. Evelyn and Nightshade continued their own journey, Evelyn still reeling from the strange encounter. She knew that she had may cold, harsh nights ahead. The Northern Waste got its name for a reason, and orcs, goblins, trolls, and all sorts of creatures roamed the land ahead of her. Still, there was something to that dwarf and their conversation that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Perhaps... it was because he was the first being in all of Middle Earth who she met... and wanted nothing from her.

He sat her down, fed her, and went on his way. He demanded no answers, made no move to interrogate or restrain. He simply wanted... to share a meal with her.


	36. Chapter 36

A hesitant yet heavy knock sounded on Elrond's door and he looked up, a slight frown creasing his lips. He could sense who was on the other side, they rarely knocked and even more rarely were they hesitant.

"Enter," he called, already placing his quill down for he knew that something was afoot.

Glorfindel, as he suspected, entered. The golden-haired warrior walked with a hesitancy to his steps that was usually nonexistent. Glorfindel was always fiery passion, unbridled energy as he laughed and fought with the same easy confidence. Now, he walked wordlessly behind Elrond's desk and paused. Elrond allowed the silence to draw out, merely turning his chair so that he faced the warrior. After a beat of silence, Glorfindel dropped to one knee, his open palm against his chest and his head bowed.

"My Lord Elrond," he spoke gravely.

At this, any trace of amusement in Elrond's mind fell as he stared at the bowed head before him.

"My friend," he spoke gently. "You have not addressed me so since the day you pledged yourself to my service. What is the cause of this now?"

"My Lord, I beg leave for a task set forth to me," he replied, head still bowed.

"Ah, yes," Elrond realized what this was all about. "So the Master of Dreams has indeed sent you a message. Rise, Glorfindel."

The captain rose and stood before Elrond who looked him over carefully. Elrond himself had been visited by Lorien many times in the past. With his foresight, he was intimately connected with the Valar of Dreams and Desires. Most certainly over the past few months his visions had become more frequent, more violent. He knew much of what was to come, what could perhaps come. One distinct possibility was now staring at him.

"I must seek out Elenya, she has lost too much hope already and I fear what will become of her from it." Glorfindel spoke with care.

"It will soon be your duty to fetch the Ring bearer and journey with him to Mordor. The Nine are stirring and no other being in Middle Earth can complete this task." Elrond had good reason for concern. Glorfindel was among the oldest elves lest alive in Middle Earth. He was their greatest living warrior and one of the few who could plausibly face a Nazgul and survive.

If the proceeding events followed Elrond's plan, then Glorfindel would ride out to meet Estel and the Ring bearer, he would bring the group to Imladris where a council would be held, the council would vote to destroy the One, and Glorfindel would be sent to guide the Ring bearer on his task. There was no one even close to Glorifndel's strength and with just the two of them, they could travel with the upmost speed.

"I know my duty, and I will still seek to carry it out,"Glorfindel's tone now turned something close to desperate, his earlier decorum gone. "Please, Elrond, allow me to do this. Allow me to journey out I know not where and find Elenya. I will speak to her and I know that there is still hope left somewhere deep in her heart. Then, I will journey towards Bree and meet Estel and the Halfling. I will bring them here and go on this dreaded quest. But please, did you not say yourself that there was more to her than we knew?"

Elrond contemplated on his old friend's words. It was true, that he sensed something in Elenya... something wrong for a mortal, yet utterly right about her. The light in her eyes- brighter than Glrofindel's tree lit gaze, was trying to tell him something, but he hadn't the faintest clue what. He did however know that Glorfindel was right... Elenya, Raven, whatever they were calling her, was going to be important.

"I will grant you leave to go," Elrond watched as Glorfindel exhaled in visible relief. "But," he warned. "Remember your duty. Remember that the Halfling and Estel are depending on you."

"Of course," Glorfindel smiled, one of the first genuine smiles since the incident with Raven. "I shall not forget."

"Where will you travel?"

"I'm not sure. My instincts are telling me north, past the Misty Mountains and beyond the Woodland Realm."

"A strange place, but if your instincts are telling you to travel to the Waste, then follow them. I sense the Valar are once more attempting to interweave your fates."

Glorfindel nodded once and all but sprinted towards the door, pausing for a second to look at Elrond, that smile re-sparking the glitter of mischief in his eyes. He flashed one of his signature smiles towards Elrond and touched his heart.

"Thank you, my friend."

Elrond nodded in response and watched as his old friend slipped out the door. He knew that the warrior was likely already packed. He would run to change his attire and grab the saddle bags that he had prepared long before we went to seek Elrond's permission. Elrond chuckled at the thought before returning to his work.

Allowing Glorfindel to journey out on his own right before his task was risky, but trying to get him to sit idle was perhaps more so. If the Valar willed for the Gondolin veteran and the strange child to meet again, then who was he to stand in their way?

* * *

Evelyn's grand plan had been to move to the Northern Waste, to live out her days with Nightshade in a region where no other conscious being dared to go. That plan... didn't quite work out.

The region was crawling with orcs, trolls, and goblins. They were everywhere at once and Evelyn and Nightshade never slept for more than a few hours at a time. Each time they laid down to rest, another hoard would be right on their tail. Day and night, they were hunted by foul beasts for they had no safety in numbers. The creatures themselves weren't too great of a threat for they were usually small groups, poorly organized clusters searching for a small meal. Each time they were beaten back by the pair, but the constant bombardment was wearing Evelyn's nerves thin.

She just wanted an end to the fighting, the running.

For that's what they were doing, always running, fleeing one nest or another. There was no respite for the weary travelers. As they grew weary, they started to make mistakes.

The errors were small; a slip down a ravine here, a drop in guard just long enough to get a small slash from and orc there, but they were a foreboding sign. Evelyn was no fool, she knew that her exhaustion was costing her and that she had to find a solution soon. But, she didn't know what to do.

The beasts constantly attacked her and Nightshade because they were always vulnerable. They had no permanent home, no crowd to gather in at night. A lonely pair was prime targeting material for a hungry band of orcs. Yet, there was nowhere for Evelyn to go.

She and the dwarf Gloin had created something close to a friendship. He seemed to wander from his mountain a bit more often than most dwarves, and every time he brought enough food to share. He would usually wander to somewhere close to their initial meeting place and Evelyn had grown used to finding him sitting on the ground, picnic halfway finished by the time Nightshade nudged her in the direction. Each time, they would share a meal. Sometimes it was done in silence, other times they spoke of nothing.

Gloin enjoyed talking about his son, Gimli. He gave Evelyn updates on what the dwarf lad was up to... how he was training hard with the promise that he would be allowed on Erebor's next diplomatic mission. In turn, Evelyn gave Gloin information about the movements of orcs and troll near the mountain. She made certain to alert him of any getting a bit too close for comfort, and she knew that he passed this information on for she often found dead orcs or raided troll hoards after their conversations.

With time, Gloin began to bring things, small gifts: a new whetstone, new hunting garb (suspiciously tailored to her size), a new cloak, and even a fine new dagger which he claimed to have forged himself. Evelyn attempted to refuse these items, but she was buffeted back by coarse hand waves and casual refusals. Gloin claimed that they weren't gifts, but payments for her scouting. She knew that the items were worth far more than her casual hints on the whereabouts of these beasts, but she didn't point it out. No matter the weather of the day, she made a point of wearing her cloak. Gloin certainly noticed this, but he made a point of not commenting.

They had a strange understanding.

Yet, at the same time, Evelyn simply couldn't bare the thought of returning with Gloin to his home. While she knew that he was fine with their unspoken agreement of no prying questions, she doubted that those in Erebor would feel the same. If she were to go with Gloin, she would have to answer to Dain who she knew was King Under the Mountain. He certainly seemed enough of the prying type to ask questions that she was unable to answer. Besides, who was to say that the dwarves of Erebor could be trusted, and how could she ever learn to live beneath a mountain? No, her home was the sky and beneath the stars. She couldn't seek safety in the fold of the dwarves.

With that sole resignation in mind, Evelyn and Nightshade continued with their nomadic lifestyle. They moved from place to place, never fully resting for they slept with one eye open. Their days were spent fighting and fleeing whilst their nights were spent snatching what rest they could or tending to the wounds which were becoming more and more frequent.

It was on one of those restless nights when she was awoken by that sense of dread and foreboding that tended to occur at the crux of each orc attack. Nightshade as already wide awake when Evelyn opened her eyes but something was wrong- it was silent. The night birds had quieted, the crickets didn't chirp, and even the wind seemed to have slowed to nothing. Now, orcs were many things, but silent they were not. It was something darker, fouler afoot.

Just as Evelyn came to that conclusion, a pit of dread formed in her stomach. She recognized that feeling. It was a feeling that she had only had one other time in her life, and she almost missed it for the amount of distress she was in at the time.

"I know you're there Sauron," she called out to the empty night. "Show yourself."

"Ah, I see you are growing more perceptive as your powers grow. Well done little one," a chilling voice floated through the air. "You have indeed grown in power since we last met."

Evelyn's hands were out as she turned sharply. She didn't bother to reach for her blades as she knew that they would be useless against the shadowy projection of Sauron, but she could feel her powers crackling beneath her skin.

"What do you want? I completed my end of the bargain and I told your minions that I never wanted to hear from you again."

The cloaked figure continued to move, floating just above the ground as it swirled round and round Evelyn. She gave up on following it and instead planted her feet. She could hear Nightshade's paw steps as the watchful wolf kept her eyes trained on Sauron's figure.

"Yes, the bargain. And how many of my orcs did you get slaughtered during that?"

"That's on you. You never told me that I had to return the army you gave me." At her words, she heard a dark rumble that she took as some sort of twisted laugh.

"Clever child. You are right. Perhaps I should be more specific in my requests."

"Now that that's settled, leave," she pushed as much force into her words as possible and was pleasantly surprised when a sudden gust of wind buffeted the shadowy cloak backwards.

"Not so hasty," he whispered, all at once behind Evelyn. She surpassed the urge to shiver. "I have another offer."

"I'm not interested."

"Oh but I think you are... last time I gave you what you wanted most in the world... your friend. Now I offer you something just as good-"

"I said I'm not interested," she heard Nightshade growling beside her.

"Ah," the figure crept closer and Evelyn felt every join in her body locking up with the darkness exuding from Sauron. "But what I offer you is- a home."

Evelyn turned her head sharply. Though she spoke no words, the dreaded Maiar took that as enough of a cue to continue to speak.

"Just imagine... a home of your very own. A place with real walls, a roof, and windows open to the sky. Room enough for you and your wolf friend. I'll even keep the surrounding land clear. Not a single one of my spawn or allies will ever set foot on the land for it'll be yours."

"I won't- I won't serve you," he voice held the slightest tremor in it as she spoke. For, truthfully, what he said was what she wanted dearly. A home- a place where she could finally rest and find peace. Oh how she desired that. No more battling orcs or running from trouble... no more running. She and Nightshade could finally sleep in peace.

"Oh no, I wouldn't dare to even attempt to poses you," his voice was a delicate hiss... so serpent like and serene. "No... you would never serve me. Instead I offer... and alliance, between- a King and Queen. I offer you a truce where your land will be yours for as long as you draw breath. I will not interfere with the affairs in your land so long as you do not interfere with the affairs of mine."

"Me or Nightshade," Evelyn slowly lowered her hands and raised her chin. She wouldn't cower when making deals with the devil.

"You or Nightshade?" The tip of the shadow tilted to the side, as if he were cocking his head in question.

"The land is mine so long as me or Nightshade draws breath. If I die first, she gets to keep the land... and it has to be healthy land. Nothing tainted by your filth."

"Fair enough," oh Evelyn could hear the smile.

"But, I haven't agreed yet," she cautioned. There was a price... there always was a price. "What do you want in return."

"I want an elf's head."

"I already burned Thranduil's halls. You want his head as well?"

"No no no," the shadow was back to swirling around Evelyn in a move that she figured was something akin to pacing. "I want the elf that you've marked."

"Marked?"

"The one who you've claimed," the voice was now an angry- no, furious hiss.

"What do you mean by 'claimed?' I haven't claimed any elf," she responded, genuinely confused.

"The legendary 'Balrog Slayer' whose soul you've marked as yours. I want his head."

"Why does he matter to you?" Though Evelyn was thoroughly confused as to what he meant by her having 'marked his soul,' she knew exactly who Sauron was speaking of. As much as she hated him... as much as she despised the elf who she was trusted... she didn't know if she could bring herself to killing him.

"He is an... obstacle," the words came out harsh and reluctant. "I will not have him interfering with my plans and I would prefer to not assassinate one who you have a claim on. We are not enemies, Child."

"You're scared of him," as she spoke, Evelyn smiled at the realization. Glorfindel was likely the oldest warrior left in Middle Earth. He was among the elves who once stood and fought against Sauron's master, the strongest of the Valar. He was a legendary hero of greater proportions than most could possibly comprehend.

"Do we have a deal?" He hissed, surging toward Evelyn and causing Nightshade to release a very dangerous growl.

"I- I will not kill him," Evelyn decided.

She couldn't.

Even after everything, after the betrayal, the pain, the hurt that he caused. She just couldn't imagine ending his life. Late into the night, when her dreams were not filled with nightmares of prisons, of cold hearted elves, or being lost in that endless pit of despair... she still dreamed of him. She still felt the heat of the Balrog's flames and still saw that gold-framed head in her lap as his breath ran out.

She hated him... but she couldn't kill him.

"I thought you'd say that... fragile hearted," his voice was filled with contempt. "You're as weak as you're-" he paused. "Never mind, a new deal. You do not kill him, but you keep him."

Evelyn didn't speak.

"I will add a few... adjustments to your home. You find your little elf and you keep him in chains. So long as he doesn't escape, our deal stands. He can be your- pet." There was the slightest hint of a chuckle in Sauron's voice.

"No, I am not a jailor," her words were firm and her eyes blazed with their light. It was in that moment that she realized by Sauron's shadowed form kept moving. He was avoiding her gaze.

"I come here for courtesy," he hissed back, once more behind her. "If I so wished, I could send a hoard of Uruk-hai led by my Nazgul to slaughter him. It is more work than I would like, but I would do it. You know he is not indomitable, you saw him nearly fall before."

As the words sunk in, Evelyn ran through her options. Like so many times before, she was trapped- boxed in between two impossible choices. She had no doubt that Sauron would go through on his threat, she knew that Glorfindel indeed was not invincible. Why he bothered to come to her first, what he meant when he said that she had 'marked him' was unknown to her. But, she did know that she just couldn't imagine the elf dead.

"And the rest of the deal," Evelyn's eyes closed slowly as she felt the dread setting in. Imprisonment... the one crime that still hurt her more than anything. Could she really to that to another? "Does it still stand?"

"Yes," the voice was much calmer now. "So long as you or your wolf draws breath and the elf remains locked away, the land is yours."

"I would see the land first," she suppressed the turmoil boiling inside her.

"Of course..." the figure began to float backwards, withdrawing from their conversation. "East of the Lonely Mountain... you will find it surrounded by woods and isolated from all others. Game and fruit is aplenty. It's yours if you uphold your end."

"I shall make my decision when I see it."

"A pleasure doing business," that dreadful chuckle rumbled through the earth once more, and he was gone.

As soon as she was certain that he was gone, Evelyn took a deep breath and collapsed onto Nightshade. Every cell in her body was strung tight. She could barely contain her pent up emotions.

If she went through with this... if she agreed to this deal... she would be becoming what she despised most. She would be what she hated. Yet, at the same time, didn't he deserve it? After everything that she had done for Glorfindel, after all the times she saved his life... he swore to always stand by her side. He made a promise to her, and he broke it. He betrayed her trust, he sided with the the one who did so much to her. It would be justifiable for her to kill him... yet she couldn't.

_Isn't this fitting punishment though?_

Evelyn couldn't find herself bothered to seek out shelter for the rest of the night. Instead, she curled up right there, leaning against Nightshade's warmth. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply the scents of the night's air. She could taste the thunderstorm rolling in, the light tinge of smoke from a campfire several miles away. The owls were once again calling out and the crickets sang their praises to the moon. It would be a calm night, but a stormy day.

Evelyn would make her decision in the morning's light.

"Is it worth is?" She asked Nightshade who was still wide awake, unwilling to rest after their encounter with the shadowy cloak of Sauron. "Another deal for the sake of finally being free of this mess?"

Before Nightshade could reply, a warg's howl in the distance seemed something close to an answer.


	37. Chapter 37

Saruman stood a respectable distance from the palantir. He was as stiff as a board and wrung tight with tension. As if Olorin's watchful eye weren't annoying enough, now this one girl could ruin absolutely everything.

"You should never have awoken her gift... it'll only continue to grow," he ground out through his teeth.

"Are you questioning my judgment?!" The fiery eye gazing back at him through the crystal orb, glowing brighter and forcing Saruman to take a step back.

"Of course not," he bowed his head respectfully, attempting to sooth his angry lord. "I merely am curious as to why you did such a thing. Did we not hope to keep her from knowing who-what she is?"

"The Child would have learned eventually... now it is I who awoke her powers, something she may yet remember."

"But she is not our ally. Why did you not just kill the Balrog Slayer?" He knew he was pushing his luck, but at the moment he also knew that he was too valuable of an ally for Sauron to dispose of- yet.

"He was marked by her," the voice sounded almost contentious. "She may not be my ally, but she is yet to be my enemy. Her gift is weak for now... we should not push her for she may yet learn more."

"And I thought there was no room for opposition in this new world we are to craft?"

"Opposition- no. Allies- perhaps, if they are of the right strength."

"You should kill her before she can grow any stronger."

The glowing eye suddenly blazed brighter than before, forcing Saruman to shield his own eyes with his arm as the voice shook his tower, rattling bottles and knocking books to the floor.

"You speak of 'we' as if we are one... all the way until you ask to kill Her. Are you volunteering for the task? If you wish it so, do you think yourself capable? By all means... be my guest," those last words came out as a dangerous hiss and Saruman, having enough self preservation to know when to stop, bowed his head low.

"My- my apologies my Lord," he forced the words out through a clenched jaw. "Such is not a task that I am suited for."

"As I thought," Sauron seemed pleased enough as the flame of his eye dimmed to a tolerable brightness. "You will carry out your assigned tasks and leave the Child to me. Now, the Gray Wizard?"

"Taken care of," Saruman couldn't help but smile at the thought of his old "friend" who always considered himself so much better... more holy and wise... and his new predicament. He had wanted to do such a thing to the annoying Maiar for centuries.

"And the Thing?"

"Ah, I have your information," he smoothly transited back into the precarious position he held with his fellow fallen Maiar. Sauron needed him so long as his only form was his eye and a brief shadow which took an extreme amount of his energy to project. He knew his value... he knew what games he had to play in order to get what he wanted.

"So tell me," Sauron's voice turned to a dark purr. "Where is my ring?"

* * *

Evelyn woke to a loud growl from Nightshade. In a flash, she was on her feet with her knives in hand. One quick sweep of the horizon however warned her that her knives wouldn't be enough. A massive hoard of orcs was barreling towards her, urged on by the light shade of darkness still lingering from the fading night. The wargs at the front of the hoard had already caught her and Nightshade's scent, and there was no way for them to outrun the beasts. While it would technically be possible for Evelyn to fly away from them, she would never be able to carry Nightshade with her. She was _not _leaving Nightshade to the creatures.

This left one option.

Sheathing her knives, Evelyn stepped in front of Nightshade and took a deep breath, drawing far within herself. She closed her eyes and remembered her terror, her desperation, and her grief. She pulled forth memories of screaming and pleading with the Mirkwood guards, of Thranduil's dismissive smirk, of the arrow piercing Nightshade's side and of Glorfindel's betrayal which still stung like a fresh knife wound. She pulled on her anger and her delightful rage as she remembered Thranduil's cries of pain as her arrows pierced him, the terror in his eyes as she light him aflame, and the raw pain in Legolas' face as he realized what she had done.

She focused her mind on these images and felt the smoldering ember within her grow to a raging inferno. She yanked on that raging fire and drew forth as much of the energy as she could, shooting it outward to envelope the oncoming hoard. The beasts shrieked as the blazing white light cut through them like a massive blade, slicing the foul beasts in twine.

One blast was all it took.

They were all dead.

Evelyn barely had enough time to comprehend this before she was swaying on her feet. Her powers always took a lot from her, and she found herself collapsing onto Nightshade's back. Her wolf whimpered slightly and nudged at Evelyn's face, lapping at the girl's cheek with her long tongue. Evelyn tried to comfort her friend, one hand half raising in an attempt to stroke the wolf's face.

"I- I'm... okay..." she was practically riding Nightshade at this point. "Don't worry- Shade... I'll- I'll be..."

When she blinked, the world briefly went black.

* * *

Nightshade watched Nightwing swaying and frowned deeply. Nightwing was injured... and not in the normal way. No, her friend was wounded for she had drained herself too far. This had become a more and more common occurrence, and Nighshade was worried. It couldn't be good for the girl to continue to use her powers until she collapsed day after day. Nightshade feared that one of these days, she wouldn't awaken.

With newfound determination, Nightshade carefully scooped the girl onto her back and began walking at a slow pace. She didn't bother checking on the orcs as she knew that they were all surely dead. The direction that Nightwing picked however, would bring them close to the mountain of the Short-folk. She knew that Nightwing usually wished to avoid them, but there was a hollow tree that they had stayed in several times before. The tree had enough space for Nightwing to lay down in, but the entrance was small enough for Nightshade to guard. There, she would be able to watch over Nightwing until the girl recovered.

She stood guard all day. By the time the sun was high, she grew thirsty and knew of a nearby stream, but she resisted the tempting call of the waters. She wouldn't leave Nightwing alone, not when she was so vulnerable. As the day grew later and later however, Nightshade grew in worry. Her friend had never been asleep for so long before, and she was worried why she had yet to recover.

It wasn't until the next day the Nightwing awoke, still weak and shaky, Nightshade managed to nudge the girl onto her back so that she could carry her to the nearby stream. Both drank their fill and Nightshade even managed to find a berry bush for Nightwing to get a small meal. As much as Nightshade wanted to stay in the little tree hollow until Nightwing recovered, the girl insisted on them moving for she thought it dangerous to stay in one place too long. Thus, onward Nightshade walked with her close friend sitting on her back.

Now, Nightshade would never admit it, but each time Nightwing gave her a direction she gradually adjusted her route. Nightwing was far too exhausted to notice, but they were little by little moving towards their usual meeting spot with White-beard. She knew that the girl wouldn't want to ask for help... she knew that she would never actually ask for help. But, she also knew that he could giver her care that she couldn't provide and he had proved trustworthy thus far... plus he was scared of her so she knew that he wouldn't try anything funny.

When they finally arrived at the meeting spot, Nightwing immediately caught on.

"You did this on purpose, didn't you?" Her tone was a tad bit accusatory, but she was far to exhausted to put any aggression into it.

_"He can help you," _she responded. Then, in a matter of fact tone, she added in, _"he is nice and he doesn't like the pup-killers."_

"He may not even show up."

_"I can already smell him."_

"How far?" Her voice had a tad bit of alarm in it, but Nightshade could sense the relief.

_"You should be able to hear is terrible singing soon."_

Just as she said so, Nightwing looked up as White-beard approached in the distance. He waved and called out cheerfully as soon as he saw them, hurrying up the last small stretch of his walk. When he got closer however, he noticed the way that Nightwing sat slumped upon Nightshade's back and he hesitated for a moment.

"Morning Lass," his voice was always a bit irritating to Nightshade's sensitive ears, but she was nonetheless pleased to see him. "Can't help but notice you look like you've been dragged amongst the orcs."

"A hoard, a half day's journey south from here. You'll find their corpses," Nightwings replied calmly, ignoring White-beard's comments.

"That group?! We've been watching them for half a season now. There must have been... how did you-" he paused and looked at the anger emerging on Nightwing's face. "Oh never mind. I ain't asking."

It was too late. Nightshade knew that her friend realized how close she was to getting caught. That hoard would have most certainly been impossible for any normal individual to kill. It was only her gift that allowed them to survive and it was her gift that she was determined to maintain a secret.

"If that'll be all, I shall take my leave," Nightwing urged Nightshade to turn and walk away, her voice turning that cold and lifeless candor as she retreated back within herself. Nightshade was all too familiar with that tone, it was the tone she used all those years ago when she first picked up Nightshade as a pup in the woods of the pup-slayers.

"Wait-" he called, holding out a hand. "There- there is something that I was meaning to talk to you about. Things are getting more and more dangerous these only reason why King Dain has allowed me to continue to venture out on my own is the knowledge that you bring me of our enemies. Each time he asks me to take an escort, but I have a feeling you wouldn't like that."

Nigthshade could feel Nightwing stiffen.

"If you can no longer meet with us then I understand," Nightwing again urged Nightshade to move, but the wolf knew that White-beard wasn't finished speaking.

"Then come with me."

Nightwing froze, holding her breath.

"Come- come live in the Lonely Mountain amongst the dwarves. We Durin-folk are trustworthy enough. Times are dangerous and you shouldn't be alone out here, not even with your wolf."

Nightshade growled lightly in appreciation, turning her head backwards to face Nightwing.

_He offers us shelter, safety from the orcs._

_And you think that you could live beneath a mountain, crawling through tunnels and never seeing the sky? _Nightwing sounded generally unimpressed.

_I- I am unsure... but we cannot continue as we do. That last battle nearly drained your strength._

_I have been imprisoned deep below ground long enough, if I cannot fly then I cannot breath. _

Nightshade sighed, but nodded in understanding. Before them, White-beard was still speaking, babbling on about his lovely mounting home and how comfortable is peoples were.

"Of course, King Dain would want to speak with you, but he would certainly allow-"

"No," Nightwing's voice was sharp. "I- I cannot."

"Please," he lowered his voice in an attempt to make his gruff tone gentle. "Dain is a good and fair king and his questions would just be to assure the safety of-"

"I cannot," she paused and took a deep breath. Nightshade could feel the girl's apprehension and she did her best to send warm waves of comfort towards her. "I- I thank you for your friendship, but if you can no longer venture here to meet alone then I regret that this shall be our last meeting."

White-beard sighed heavily, but he seemed more so resigned than surprised. It seemed that he had seen this result coming.

"I don't understand you Lass, and I doubt that I will. But, I can accept that you're as stubborn as and dwarrowdam. I may not be outside the mountain alone for some time, but I won't say this is our last meeting. Mahal is funny about things such." With those words, he reached into his pack and pulled out a pouch. "One last gift then, for now."

Nightwing took the pouch hesitantly an opened it, finding two items. One was a cloak, thickly woven and clearly tailored to approximate Nightwing's size. The other, a heavy dagger, wrought with elegant metal twisting and sitting in a sheath with a wide belt.

"The belt should fit your wolf, I figured since most dwarves have a spare blade they keep on their pony, your mount deserves its own."

Nightshade bared her teeth in what she hoped the short-folk would interpret as a friendly gesture. She was indeed glad at the idea of carrying a spare weapon for Nightwing to use. A spare blade in general would be much appreciated as the girl still used her knives stolen from the pup-slayers.

"I made the blade myself, that signal on the pommel is mine. Show it to any dwarf you meet and they'll know you're a friend of Gloin."

"I- thank you," Nightwing managed.

White-beard then explained that it was getting late and that he would have to return to the Mountain, so he bid them farewell and left.

For a while after that, Nightwing examined both the blade and cloak, running her fingers across the surfaces of each with a slightly misty look in her eyes. Nightshade could sense the bittersweet sorrow that filled her at not being able to accept White-beard's offer. The idea of living underground and answering questions from another king was just too much... they would have to find another way to safety.

_"Nightwing, we cannot continue this way."_

"We have to."

_"You have still barely recovered. Next time you might not ever."_

"The south is closer to Mordor, it is even more wrought with his filth. What choice so we-"

_"Should we not at least see the offer?"_

"I thought you didn't trust him?"

_"I don't."_

Although Nightwing still sat atop Nightshade's back, she could practically hear the frown spreading across the girl's face.

"Fine, we will look."

_"And then?"_

"We will see from there."

Nightshade nodded and began walking east to the direction that Sauron indicated. According to him, they would find a virtual paradise, devoid of any of his foul creatures. Now Nightshade hated the Fierything. She could feel his evil seeping off of him and her fur stood on end every time he drew close. She could feel him always, in the background, the dark hum of his gaze blanketed the landscape.

If they could find a way to escape from him... then maybe Nightwing would be able to find peace at last.


	38. Chapter 38

Glorfindel was racing across the plains. He had been pushing Asfaloth as hard as he dared for the past weeks and, to his credit, his steed was indeed rising to the challenge. But, no matter how much ground they covered, no matter how hard he searched, Glorfindel was coming up largely empty.

His was an oxymoronic task as he was on a reckless yet cautions search as he roamed the lands. It was indeed true that Middle Earth had become incredibly dangerous as of late. Bands of orcs and other beasts roamed freely whilst the peoples of the land were wary of strangers. For Glorfindel, there was no hiding his golden hair and elvish features, not even a cloak with his hood pulled down low was sufficient to disguise him enough to walk amongst settlements of men. Wherever he went he drew attention, and attention was the last thing he wanted. If he wished to find Elenya... he would have to be subtle, to be silent about it. There was no doubt in his mind that the girl didn't want to be found, but he was determined.

And, it seemed that his hard riding was paying off. He made it over the Misty Mountains and had skirted his way around Mirkwood Forest. Although he had been tempted to stop at Erebor and resupply, he was far too eager. He was getting close, he knew it. Somehow... he felt it in his bones that he was getting closer and closer to Elenya.

**_Bang_**

Out of nowhere a burst of light threw Glrofindel from Asfaloth's back. He flew through the air and hit the ground hard, tumbling over the uneven earth. As soon as he stopped rolling he reached for his sword, though his movements were sluggish from the blow that he took to his head. Distantly, he could hear Asfaloth's distressed calls, but all his focus was on the speck of black in the sky, quickly growing in size.

It was her.

Elenya landed on the grass a few meters in front of him. She still wore a cloak that covered her wings when she tucked them in, but her mask was gone and her hood was down. She looked haggard and exhausted, but her eyes still shone brighter than any star he had ever seen.

"Elenya... I-" he didn't even know where to start. "I- I've been looking for you."

The question seemed to startle her, for she froze and then slowly looked him up and down.

"Why?"

"I- because-" he lowered his sword to the ground. "Because I'm sorry-"

"You betrayed me," she had her two blades in her hands and her arms trembled in what Glorfindel could only presume to be rage. "You broke your promise and you betrayed me!"

"Please, I'm sorry," he found himself choking on his own words as he rose to stand. She slid one foot backwards and held both of her blades aloft in a ready stance. He held up his empty hands in a show of peace. "Please, let me bring you home."

She barked out a harsh, cold, and somewhat manic laugh.

"Home?! What home?!" Her grip on her blades tightened as he took a cautious step forward. "Are you talking about Imladris? That's no home to me." He continued to walk towards her, but she remained frozen in place. "I haven't had a home since I was dropped in this godforsaken place."

"Please, let me fix that. I-"

"You will," she whispered, so quietly that even his sharp, elvish ears struggled to pick up on her words. He was straining so much to hear her, in fact, that he completely missed the sound of something approaching from behind.

It was only the slightest whistling of the breeze that alerted him that something was flying at his back. Instincts took over and he was half turned when it collided with him, a large, warm mass ploughing him to the ground. He looked up and his eyes widened in shock as he recognized his attacker- it was Nightshade.

The wolf who he thought was dead now had him pinned to the earth. The wolf growled fiercely and bared its gleaming teeth to the elf. Centuries of battle experience surged through his veins as the twisted sharply to pull himself out of the beasts grip. He rolled across the grass and lept into a crouch, drawing the small dagger that he kept in his boot. His sword was on the grass where he had dropped it and there was an angry wolf between him and his blade.

Said wolf was now growling lowly as it slowly crept forward.

In the moment where Glorfindel would usually tighten his grip on his blade, he paused.

He had sworn the wolf was dead, he knew that Elenya had thought the same and he had never before seen such pain and rage in her eyes. If he killed her friend now, right in front of her, and right after his betrayal- then she would never forgive him. She would be lost to him for forever.

He dropped his dagger and lept backwards, barely missing the snarling jaws of the wolf. Intuition guided his steps as he lept to the side, dodging the attack that she launched at his unprotected back. He stood in a half crouch, hands still up in a gesture of peace as the wolf and girl circled him slowly as wolves do their prey. He was tense, ready to dodge and leap, but unwilling and unable to strike back. He prayed to the Valar that he would be able to reason with her.

"Elenya please-"

"Don't call me that," she snarled and launched herself forward, unleashing a flurry of blows.

_**Whoosh **_

_**Swish **_

_**Wham!**_

One particularly brutal strike barely missed Glorfindel's side as he was almost too slow. The blade hit the a hard rock in the earth and the sound reverberated around them. As the attacks increased in speed, Glorfindel was forced to put all of his effort into dodging both the girl and wolf.

Later, he would realize how unhinged Elenya's fighting was; how generally she fought with utmost restraint and grace, precise strikes that killed or maimed in a single blow. At the moment however, her strikes were wild and uncoordinated, completely unpredictable.

Her blades were a constant, deadly hum and Glorfindel was forced to use all his skill and grace to stay out of her range. He knew that if he could just get a tiny bit closer, he could disarm her without harming her. If he could manage then we was certain he would be able to reason with her; but Nightshade was fierce and incredibly protective.

It was two against one.

He was completely unarmed.

And he was afraid to harm his opponents.

Any sane elf would be terrified... but as it has been pointed out before, Glorfindel was never really considered sane.

_Oh the comments Erestor would say could he see this, _Glorfindel couldn't help but think wryly as he continued to jump and dodge blade and fang alike.

At one point, Glorfindel found himself somehow with his back to a tree. A brief idea flashed into his mind and he planted his feet. The stillness seemed to launch Elenya into the slightest bit of confidence as she once more swung her swords with all her might. Like before, Glorfindel dodged away at the last second and smiled in delight as Elenya's blades became embedded in the wood behind him.

His joy was short lived however, for Nightshade launched an attack with full fury, barreling at him with such speed that he was practically sprinting backwards in his attempt to keep out of the wolf's jaws. He hopped from one spot to the next, moving so agilely that his feet seemed to barely kiss the ground. Many before had seen his tall framed and been decided by it, thinking he would be slow and brutish- but no, he moved like a dancer on the battlefield and never before had he been more grateful for his lightness of foot.

But, there was a problem.

He had become so engrossed in his deadly dance with Nightshade's jaws that he stopped paying attention to his back. He completely missed that Nightshade had been subtly herding him backwards into a very particular direction. In fact, he didn't notice that he was retracing his steps until all of the sudden, he felt something grasp his hair and yank him backwards. There was a solid sounding **_thunk_** that part of Glorfindel's mind was screaming at him for that part of his brain seemed to think the sound to be dangerous. The larger part of his mind however, clung to the last words that he heard spoken.

"You'd think that after this happened before... he would learn to tie back his hair."

* * *

Evelyn froze as she stared at Glorfindel's prone body.

It was a little like the battle had occurred to someone else, that she was merely a character in one of her favorite stories and she just finished reading the epic battle sequence. She felt like that hard, hollow sound that she heard when Glorfindel's head made contact with the tree- _when I yanked his head into the tree- _that pestering voice in her head wasn't helping her in this matter, was fake. During the fight she had felt nothing but anger, but rage when she saw him happy as could be... riding his stallion out without a care in the world after his betrayal. There had been some joyful glee as she had grabbed him by his hair and knocked him unconscious. But now, now the rage had burned out and she was just tired.

She had done it... she was fulfilling another dark deal with Sauron, the deceiver.

In truth, she hadn't even really meant to find him. From the moment she set her eyes upon the land that Sauron offered her, it was like giving a drop of water to a many dying of thirst in the desert... it did nothing to satisfy her but only made her losing stronger. The tugging of her heart for the mere concept of a home, of a safe haven where she no longer had to run from, hide from, or battle evil creatures whilst hiding herself from civilization was too much.

So... she thought that she would "try." She would fly out, do a few scourings of the sky and upon not finding Glorfindel she could safely assume that he was tucked away within Imladris, within the bounds of Elrond's ring of power where she couldn't reach him. She told herself that the effort of "having tried" would be enough to quell the desire, it would be like sealing away the chance that she was offered.

She never thought that she would actually find him.

_I've been looking for you._

The words floated through her head and she did her best to shake away the question. It was hard enough to stand over him, looking down at his face- far too still and serene for having been knocked unconscious. Yet still he was. He was still just as beautiful as the night she first saw him, when she held him and cradled him as he died, the night where his golden hair fanned out in the flames to create a halo, the night where he looked like an avenging god battling satan himself. He still looked so pure and righteous, and angel that could never fall. And yet, she saw him pushing aside Legolas, she saw him making a promise and breaking it like every damn elf she met since arriving in Middle Earth. His broad shoulders and large hands were like the men she met on the road, the men who leered and came far too close, who only backed away with the aide of a blade or her menacing wolf companion. There was a juxtaposition of his image in her mind; one side was the beautiful and righteous protector, the soft promises and eager eyes just begging to save her- the other was the betrayer, the liar and the same ill intent of so many who she met.

She hated and feared him.

He was hers.

Evelyn was no fool, she knew that she was no match for him if she was trying to capture him. Of course she could always do to him what she did to the troop of orcs; one savage blow of power could wipe out an entire hoard, it could certainly destroy a single elf no matter how valiant he may be. But yet, she couldn't do that... she couldn't bring herself to kill him. That first blow to knock him off his horse had been dangerous enough. She really couldn't control her powers... they were like a raging river, building up behind a damn and once she released it, who know where the torrent would fall, what it would break through and destroy in its path.

And so he let her capture him, this elf who she spat her rage at was either suicidal enough to not care or trusted her enough to allow her to render him senseless.

Evelyn tried not to think too much on the latter and instead told herself that it was surly the former.

Now she was at an impasse. She had three options and she turned to Nightshade to seek advice.

"I can kill him here, end this and we can move into our new land."

_"But you won't," _Nightshade stated in such a matter of fact tone that Evelyn couldn't help but feel the slightest bit annoyed at her companion's smug- no, resigned tone.

"I can drug him and bring him with us... he can live in the cell and we can move on with our life."

_"I doubt that will end well."_

"Or I can leave him here... he'll wake up eventually and maybe-" Evelyn paused for a moment, uncertainly crept into her voice as she chewed on her bottom lip in thought. "Maybe he'll consider it a defeat and go back home... and we can continue our life like nothing happened."

_"That would be the most sensible option."_

Evelyn paced back and forth for a few more minutes before eventually resigning herself to her choice. Really, she had already made her choice and was only now accepting it. She reached into a small pouch tied at her waste and pulled out a little metal flask that she had "lifted" off a particularly unsavory merchant some years ago. While she sometimes felt bad about stealing for her needs, this man was a slaver and she had taken both his flask and the keys to his "merchandise." Keys that mysteriously made their way into the slave pit. She found that she didn't feel bad about that particular incident.

But the flask proved very very valuable, and she had rarely used it before. Now, she figured that it was a good thing that she had saved it for so long. She uncapped the flask and made her way over to Glorfindel's still form. Ever so carefully, she lifted his head onto her lap and dripped a few drops of the liquid in the flask into Glorfindel's mouth. As she moved to put the flask away, she paused and was frozen to the scene. There he was, his head in her lap, his crystal blue eyes wide open. She swore she could see his stomach ripped open, organ falling onto the filthy, ash strewn floor. She could feel the heat of the Balrog's flames, the thick and choking air filled with smoke. She could hear the cries of refugees fleeing their home in terror as rocks crumbled all around her as if the earth was trying to swallow her whole.

_"I see we're going with the least sensible option then," _Nightshade's sardonic tone snapped Evelyn out of her memory. She shook her head for a moment to clear her thoughts before she pushed the elf's head off her lap and stood.

"Tis a fair bargain."

_"Yes, a bargain with the deceiver."_

"I know his title... I told it to you. But so far he has kept his bargains more than any other, at least he is honest in his hatred and deception. Besides-" Evelyn almost reached down to touch Glorfindel's face, but she pulled her hand back like it had been burned at the last second. "I may choose to kill him later."

Although by then Evelyn had turned around so she could roll the elf over, she swore that she could _hear _Nightshade rolling her eyes. Nonetheless, the wolf obligingly laid down and allowed Evelyn to tied the now bound elf over her back. Nightshade began walking in the direction of their new home, but Evelyn paused for a moment.

Glorfindel's horse, Asfaloth was still where he had been the entire fight. He was antsy, bucking and braying, calling out for his master who he now saw being carried away on the back of the wolf who had growled at him when he tried to join the fight. Evelyn knew that the beast was a war horse, that he was trained to protect his master and she could sense the fondness and concern that he felt for the unconscious elf.

Evelyn approached him slowly, one hadn't outstretched as she murmured soothing words that quickly quelled the horse's protests. She spent a few moments merely running her fingers through the stallion's mane, her hands rubbing soothing circles across rippling lines of muscle that were still hot from his face across Middle Earth. There was no doubt in Evelyn's mind that the creature had been worked hard and that he was exhausted.

She then turned her hands to her own hair which was pinned back as she often had it when fighting. She found the little hair pin- the one with the golden flower and the dangling feathers. For a long time she had debated throwing it into a river or so far into the trees that it would be lost for forever, but she could never manage to do it. Now, it was time for her to let go of her lingering fondness, time for her to admit to herself that Glorfindel was as much of a betrayer as any elf and that she didn't care about him. Maybe his imprisonment would be punishment, maybe it would just be for her convince.

If there was anything that Middle Earth had taught her, it was that rectitude forfeit in a land where only the strong survived.

Evelyn rubbed her thumb across the hairpin one last time before weaving it into Asfaloth's mane. She stroked the stallion and whispered instructions to him. She wanted him to return home, to return to the herd of Imladris where he would be happy. She promised the loyalty steed that he had done all he could for his master, but informed him that some there were some fates that even the grandest of warhorses couldn't prevent.

Asfaloth nickered softly in reply and turned, trotting back the way he came.

Evelyn took one more moment to watch the gleaming white horse disappear before she lifted herself with her wings to catch up the Nightshade. Her wolf was bearing her cargo in silence as they journeyed on, traveling to their home.

They had a _home_.

Maybe it would all be worth it.


	39. Chapter 39

When Evelyn and Nightshade finally reached the boarder of their precious land, she felt a wave of peace wash over her. There was a physical sensation as the crossed the boarder, she could feel the hum of magic that blocked out even Sauron's eye as the crossed the threshold that divided her land from what he considered to be his. In truth Evelyn was surprised by that addition of security, she had been half expecting Sauron to find some way to spy on or trick her, but instead she truly was away from the foul taint of Sauron's darkness in her home.

The trees whispered their greeting as she walked past them, hissing a bit in alarm at the unconscious form slung across Nightshade's back. But, she calmed them and explained that this elf was a prisoner, that he couldn't harm her as the others wished to. The trees were rather protective as she had told her story to them when she first explored the beautiful area. They were now very protective of her and thus she knew that even if Sauron managed to find a way to sneak into her sacred place, they would protect her.

She and Nightshade arrived at their new home in the heart of the woods. There was a beautiful cottage made of stone and wood that stood beside a gently trickling waterfall. The water was cool and sweet with a small pool at the bottom that was perfect for bathing in. The house itself had a sturdy base of grey cobble stone, gleaming white walls, and a delightfully shingled roof from which a chimney protruded. Inside the floors were hardwood and the interior consisted of one spacious great room with table and chairs for one, a suitable kitchen, a walk in pantry, and a bed large enough for both her and Nightshade with long drapes along the side. Large windows opened up to the fresh air outside and there was even an attached washroom that had something resembling crude indoor plumbing for the sewage drained to deep underground. There was more luxury than Evelyn had had in years.

Yet, as they entered the house, Evelyn made for the small door off to the side. Upon first seeing it, one might initially assume the door to lead towards a closet or other storage. However, one might also be inclined to notice that the door was not made of wood as most of the furnishings of the house, but instead formed of solid steel. Evelyn withdrew the key from around her neck and opened the heavy door to reveal a small, dimly lit room. There were no windows, the floor was made of cold stone, a small hole was dug into the ground and covered with a wooden lid in one corner of the cell, and against the far wall was a set of rather sturdy looking chains.

Evelyn hesitated a moment before she pulled Glorfindel's still limp form off of Nightshade. She cut off the ropes and began locking him into the chains, but sh paused halfway through. After a bit of deliberation, she decided that the collar around his neck was enough, and that he didn't need the ankle and wrist restraints as they would just cause too many problems. Once he was secured the walked out of her house and took to the sky, flying to the edge of her territory. There, just outside the magical barrier sat a crebain on a low hanging branch. Evelyn handed the key to the bird who took it and flew off to its master.

There, the deal was done.

Evelyn returned and dragged with her a straw sack so that Glorfindel could have something resembling a bed. She then hung a lit oil lamp on the wall and placed a jug of water with a small wooden cup by his side for when the drug wore off. She stepped out of the cell and closed it, locking the door behind her.

"We're home," she said to Nightshade who nodded once before taking off out the door. Evelyn knew that the wolf was hungry and was likely to bring back something for their dinner.

Thus, she set about preparing for whatever Nigthshade would bring, finding the pantry stocked with enough dry goods to make a feast out of whatever meat Nightshade happened to find.

Her home was perfect, whatever Sauron did wouldn't be able to touch her or Nightshade.

The two of them could be happy and safe. All she had to do was keep the traitor locked up.

_I can do this... _her mind seemed far less confident than she wished for it to be.

* * *

"Why do you refuse to admit that she is lost?!"

It was Aule, obviously the Smith had snuck past Yavanna's Istari who were under clear orders to not allow the Valar into her home, yet here he was in her dining room, demanding answers to the same question he asked at every single meeting that they had. A few of Yavanna's dear birds were flitting above in the open rafters and more soon gathered for the ceiling of her Great Room was open to allow access to the Valar's flighted friends. There was an anxious chittering in the air for 'tis true that beasts can sense disturbances of temper.

"She has not killed Laurefindil and she will not. He will draw her back to the light," Yavanna replied with feigned calmness. If Aule didn't leave her house soon then he may very well find a pair of trees breaking through the stone of his entryway.

"She has betrayed us and you know it. She made a second deal and she's proven that she's lost," he sneered back.

Yavanna felt her blood boiling. There was a time when she loved Aule, when they thought that they would join together in an impossible union- Metal and Earth, her warm life and his cool instruments of death... but now that's all she saw him as... a creator of instruments of death. She despised him.

"And who was this deal with? Oh yes, your very own Maiar. And who is aiding Mairon? Oh yes, your other Maiar." Yavanna put her fork down and rose from her seat, walking around the table so she could press one finger against the other Valar's chest. "And tell me, tell me dear Aule the Smith, you worry so much about Laurefindil, an elf who has devoted his House to me... what Eldar ever devoted themselves to you? Oh, was it Feanor? How proud where you to have the 'Greatest of the Noldor' such a student of your craft? What happened to his whole line? I suppose with so much betrayal you think yourself an expert."

"Do you ever tire of moaning of the past?" Aule was grinding his words through his teeth and Yavanna couldn't help but grin. It seemed that she had truly struck a nerve.

"Do you ever tire your favorites betraying you?"

At those words Aule rose his fist as if to strike Yavanna. Several of her most loyal Maiar who had been secretly watching the spectacle made to run forward and help their Lady at their own peril, but she held up a hand to stop them. Instead, she lifted her chin towards the furious smith and leveled a challenging stare.

"Go ahead, prove to me why you know so much of right and wrong by striking me in my home."

Aule dropped his first with a growl of rage and stormed out of Yavanna's Halls, his rage practically emanating from his form.

"Mark my words Yavanna," he called over his shoulder, not looking back but yelling all the same. "She is lost."

Yavanna merely ignored him, sitting back in her chair and slowly returning to her meal. It wasn't as if she needed to eat, but tasting the fruits which she labored so much over creating was always a source of pleasure for her. And, with the way things were going and the constant worrying over Middle Earth, she would take small pleasures wherever she could.

* * *

"Glorfindel!" Elrond woke up with a gasp, his close friend's name on the tip of his tongue. He was in bed, panting from exertion and cold sweat running down his back and face- an annoying side effect of his Edain blood.

But, there was nothing odd in his room. He was still in his chambers in Imladris, the open window allowed a mild breeze into the room and his vast bed was as empty as it had been since Celebrian sailed. Elrond slowly slipped out of bed and moved to the pitcher of water on his counter. He poured some into a bowl and used it to splash his face, wiping some of the sweat off his brow. He then poured himself a glass of wine and went out to his balcony, sitting down and watching the stars, looking for where his father and mother sailed in the sky.

This was not a foreign sensation to him. Elrond was born a creature of foresight. The gift however was fickle and never forthcoming with easy answers. This time instead of a vision, all he had was a vague sensation of wrongness. Something dangerous had befallen his friend, and he had no idea what kind of mess he was in.

There was a knock at his door.

"Ada?"

"Come in Elrohir," he called, smiling slightly. His younger son was always a bit more perceptive than his brother. Elrond knew that Elrohir had inherited some of his gift. Though he never received vision... he always had a sense for when someone was in distress. It made him a compassionate leader, but was a great burden on his soul.

"Are you well?" Elrohir asked as he came to stand beside Elrond.

"As well as can be expected in these dark times," Elrond offered his son a glass of wine, and to his surprise, Elrohir accepted it and sat down on the chair beside him. "Did you just come here to ask about my wellbeing?" He prodded gently after some time.

"I-" Elrohir hesitated a moment, fiddling with the stem of his wineglass before he continued. "I felt something... something- I think something is wrong with Raven."

"Raven?" Elrond turned to his son in surprise. He had not realized that his son had formed such a connection with the strange child. It was true that he had never presumed Estel's attraction to Arwen either so it was possible... "You are... attached to-"

"No," Elrohir nearly spat out his wine in shock, his cheeks turning bright red. "No no no... thing like that." Elrond smirked a bit at how flustered his son got, but he graciously withheld his laughter and waited for Elrohir to regain his composure.

"Then?"

"It's just that... she was scared Ada..." in Elrohir's eyes, Elrond could see the compassion of his own twin. "She... was so so scared. I know she tried to shoot Legolas, and I know she said... thinks about everyone... but she was just scared." The then turned to fully face Elrond and put down his wineglass. "You know had Elladan and I trained with her and I saw her shoot. She's fast Ada, faster than most of Mirkwood and just as accurate, if not more." Elrond raised an eyebrow at that, but allowed his son to continue. "If she wanted, if she really really wanted then she could've shot Legolas right there... she could've gotten to her arrows before Elladan and I managed to grab her and then when she... when she threw us back she could've killed him there."

"That is true," Elrond had to admit to himself that his son was correct on that. How she did what she did was still a mystery... but she could've caused significantly more damage than simply knocking everyone back.

"And when she left us she was alone and scared and... and I can just feel that something bad happened to her Ada."

When Elrohir finished his speech, Elrond nodded and took a sip of his wine as he though it over. He trusted his sons, he loved them both dearly and though he was as protective as any father, he knew that they were well past their majority and usually sound in judgment on important matters. He also knew that there was something he was missing about this Raven, an itch at the back of his mind.

It was something with her eyes... he swore that there was something there.

"You had this feeling... just this night?" He questioned Elrohir who nodded in response.

"Stange..." he took another sip and watched how Elrohir had to physically restrain himself from prodding for a quicker response. "I had a similar feeling this night... but about Glorfindel."

"Do you think they're in danger together... do you think she's saving him like before?" The hope in Elrohir's eyes was so pure that Elrond regretted what he had to say next.

"I'm sorry ion-nin, but I worry that it may be more complex than that."

Elrohir nodded once and stood to take his leave, wishing his father goodnight as he did. Elrond wished his son a peaceful rest as well and continued to watch the stars as his son slipped back to his room. For a long while Elrond remained up, observing his birth parents slip across the sky.

"And what now? What happens if he fails to return to us, what happens if he can't fetch the Ringbearer and guide the Halfling to Mount Doom? Will darkness fall on Middle Earth... will we leave these shores to the doom of men?" He asked the question half to himself, and half to his mother and father as they sailed high in the sky.

Eventually, he set down his glass and returned to bed, slipping beneath the covers closing his eyes. One last question however remained...

"Oh Glorfindel, mellon-nin, what trouble have you fallen into now?"


	40. Chapter 40

Now, Evelyn thought that she had prepared herself for whatever Glorfindel's reaction would be to waking up in his cell. She was ready for rage; to hear him yanking on his chains and demanding his freedom. She was ready for him to attempt to bargain; to twist words and claim that Imladris would be a proper home for her if only she would go back. She was ready for pleadings; for she was rather convinced that he would try what he did when they fought, that he would try to garner sympathy and show remorse for his betrayal. What she did not expect however... was the amused commentary and incessant chatter.

"Oh wow, only one chain instead of all those ropes... quite lovely, thank you!" Evelyn and Nightshade both paused and turned to look at the locked door. It was the first sound that they had heard to indicate that Glorfindel was awake. If anyone else were to say those words, they would sound like the epitome of sarcasm, but somehow Glorfindel managed to make them filled with delight... as if he were actually pleased to find himself chained.

"And look, a lovely lamp. Although I must admit that I'd prefer a window, I truly do appreciate the light," despite the cheer in Glorfindel's words, Evelyn felt herself tensing. Somehow, his cheer was worse than anything she had prepared for. "Look at all this, I have my own room with facilities! This is quite the upgrade Elenya."

Even Nightshade appeared puzzled by the annoyingly cheerful tone and Evelyn decided that it was best to just ignore him. Perhaps, if she never responded then he would give up and leave her in peace. She didn't think that she was quite ready to face him just yet and so instead, she occupied herself with skinning the deer that Nightshade caught and preparing the meat. She cut the majority of the meat into thin strips which she brined in salt before handing in the small smokehouse right outside. She already had several earthenware jars filled with dried herbs and pickled vegetables, but she was glad to be adding to her stores nonetheless.

With the remaining venison she began to prepare a stew, all the while doing her best to tune out Glorfindel's incessant chatter.

"I must say, this cell is far more roomy than my previous arrangement."

"Say, is Asfoloth still around? That old boy is certainly clingy though I think he dislikes Nightshade."

"It's been too long, really Elenya. We must catch up."

"Is your hair longer than the last we met? Your hair must grow far quicker than the Eldar's."

"Now I'll admit, you got me with my hair. Erestor is always pestering me to pull it back when I ride out but I find it too annoying and cumbersome. You'd think that I'd learn though."

"Oh, is that venison? It smells wonderful!"

Evelyn closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. When she opened them, she was met with Nightshade who had the slightest twinkle of mirth in her eyes.

_I told you this wasn't a good idea, _the wolf projected to Evelyn.

_Well I'm glad you're enjoying this,_ Evelyn snapped back.

_If you hate him, kill him. If you don't then let him go._

_If only things were that simple. _

_It is how wolves live._

_But neither he nor I are wolves. _

Nightshade obviously didn't like Evelyn's response, but she was let it go at that. Either way, the stew was finished and Evelyn had to decide what to do next. She really didn't want to face Glorfindel yet... but she had to feed him. Thus, she found herself walking over to his cell. She knew that he could hear her as he suddenly fell silent as she stood there, working up the courage to face the elf who she... well she didn't know what she felt about him.

She opened the door and was greeted by Glorfindel's smile.

"Hello," he said simply.

Evelyn wordlessly placed a bowl of stew with a spoon on the floor, sliding it over to him.

"Will you at least talk to me?" He asked.

Evelyn froze, but she quickly recovered and was about to leave, she had one hand on the door when he stopped her again. His earlier smile was gone and that cheerful tone left his voice. Instead, something like desperation colored his expression as he leaned forward.

"Please- I... I missed you. I missed the days we spent together," when he spoke, he looked so sincere that Evelyn could feel a piece of her heart aching.

"You were the one who threw it away," her voice came out cold, but she didn't care at that moment.

"Yes and- I'm sorry. And I know that sorry doesn't do anything to change the past but still, I'm sorry. I cannot change that which has passed... but please-" he paused for a moment, his lips still parted and his eyes glimmering. "Just- leave the door open. I won't ask you to remove these chains, I won't ask for your trust yet... but I cannot bare to sit here in the darkness and the silence."

Memories of her own imprisonment flooded Evelyn and she nodded once, moving to sit down near the hearth, curled up alongside Nightshade. She was several bites into her own bowl of stew when Glorfindel began talking again.

"Might I ask... one question," his tone seemed sincere so Evelyn reluctantly nodded. "Where is Asfoloth? He is a very loyal steed... and I-"

"He is home."

"Pardon?"

"I sent him back to Imladris... I told him to return to his herd and that he had done all he could for his master... he didn't want to go but he eventually relented." Evelyn offered Glorfindel his first smile as she recalled the actions of the proud stallion. "He is a loyal companion. You're lucky."

"Indeed I am... thank you."

For a while that seemed to placate the elf and bth continued to eat their dinner in silence. Evelyn was firmly wedged into Nightshade's side whilst the wolf occupied herself by chewing on the deer's femur. For a while the only sounds to be heard were the thrushes and crickets outside along with the persistent gnawing of Nightshade inside. Moonlight was filtering into the cabin and Evelyn was doing her best to ignore how Glorfindel was glowing in the white beams when he decided to break the tense silence.

"The fair weather is waning... soon it shall be autumn." He paused and looked at Evelyn expectantly, but the girl continued to eat and ignore him. "I can hardly wait for the changing of the leaves... every year the banks of the Bruinen turn a thousand shades of copper and gold... it's a beautiful sight."

"I'm not used to the leaves turning and falling," Evelyn found herself speaking without quite thinking.

"Oh?"

"Where I'm- was once from... I was so near the coast that the weather was always mild... the trees were evergreens that never dropped their leaves or massive palms that never change," she said with a sad smile on her face. Home seemed so far off, she had given up on being homesick. Now it was more like a place from a dream or an old movie... a memory of a fictional place.

"The shores of Valinor?" Glorfindel asked with curiosity tinging his voice.

"No," she chuckled a bit. "Somewhere farther... it wasn't paradise... but it was home."

"Tell me about it, please."

Evelyn paused for a moment. She couldn't- wasn't ready to speak aloud about her world filled with planes and cars- electricity that the elves would think of as magic. No matter how much time had passed, no matter what she did to them, she still couldn't get the that feeling of horror and desperation when she begged Thranduil to believe her out of her head. That was the last time she spoke about her home aloud. It was the last time she dared to.

But, when she looked over at Glorfindel she found an open and honest expression. He was precious and unguarded... so she began to talk. She shared with him stories of her childhood home, redacting of course any information that he wouldn't understand. So, she talked out the beaches, about how she would sprint from the yellow sand that was burning hot into the cool blue waves; how the trees were massive palms, long thin trunks that swayed in the gentlest of breezes. She spoke of tide pools and strange little sea creatures, of gulls and feral cats wandering the shores.

And all the while she talked, Glorfindel listened. He never interrupted, never seemed to doze off... but remained entranced by her words until she realized how tired she was. That night, Evelyn kept Glorfindel's door open because she wasn't sure she could bare shutting him away in the darkness again... it awoke too many painful memories for her.

* * *

Glorfindel was laid out on his little pallet. Feigning sleep is a simple feat when elves are already known to sleep with their eyes open. He watched as Elenya readied herself and her wolf for bed. He knew that his "capture" would prove a problem to Lord Elrond's plan for him to fetch the Ringbearer, but between his dreams and the feeling of rightness when around the strange girl... he just knew that the Valar had a hand in all that was occurring. Thus, he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Asfoloth was the fastest steed in Imladris and he knew that his stallion could outrun the Nine. There was no doubt in Glorfindel's mind that the Ringbearer would make it safely to the Last Homely House. Asfoloth knew his task as well as Glorifindel... and the stallion would see it done.

Instead, his task was his Elenya... his mysterious savior who was slipping eerily close to darkness. He knew that she wasn't evil... he just knew it. She was lost, afraid, and hurt... so just like any creature beaten so low she fought back and did what it took to survive. He knew that the house they were in was not built by her hands... in fact after examining the chains he had a pretty good idea on who built this structure. Between the house, his capture, and the fact that Nightshade was alive and perfectly well... was putting the pieces together.

But now, there was one more clue about Elenya... about what she may be.

Glorfindel watched as she carefully maneuvered around the cabin, cleaning up from her earlier cooking and walking back and forth, crossing the threshold of the window several times. He wasn't sure how he had never noticed it earlier... probably because he never called on her at night... but every time she passed the window, every time the moonlight hit her, she glowed. The light of the stars and moon bathed her in a beautiful white glow that shimmered all around her... brighter than any elf.

He had never before seen such a thing.

_Oh my dear Elenya, _he thought as he settled down to actually sleep. _What are you?_

* * *

Aragorn was tucked into a table in the corner of the room, a hood pulled down low over his eyes. In these parts of Middle Earth, he went by the name Strider, the name of a Ranger who was feared and avoided. Often times he disliked the reputation that Rangers often held for it made finding lodgings and supplies difficult, but this night he was incredibly grateful. No one dared to approach him or sit at his table and thus, he had time to think.

Gandalf was supposed to meet him several days ago and the wizard was missing. Such was an unsettling thought, especially with the knowledge that the Halfling- or Halflings as Gandalf had explained that the Ringbearer was bringing a companion, were supposed to be arriving soon. Something dark was stirring in the air and Aragorn could feel it.

He took another slow sip of his beer as his mind wandered back to his home, to Imladris. Just as Raven had hinted, his reveal to Lord Elrond of his feelings for Arwen were mildly disastrous. His foster father had demanded that if any were to take Arwen's hadn't in marriage, to steal her immortality, then he would accept such a thing from no less than a King. Lord Elrond wanted him to take up the destiny that he despised from the moment it was revealed to him... the destiny to become King of Gondor.

Aragorn chuckled a little at the thought. There, sitting in the back corner of a dingy inn with his travel worn leather and hood pulled low over his eyes, he looked more like your average bandit than any king.

But, the days were shortening and he knew it was only a matter of time before the Halflings appeared. Then, Gandalf or no Gandalf, they would have to make their way to Imladris. If all went well, Glorfindel would meet them halfway through their journey and once the Ringbearer was safe, they would call a council together to decide the fate of the One. Aragorn would be happy to see it destroyed for a part of him still felt that it was his burden, the failings of his bloodline allowed the One to still exist... it would be fitting for him to see it destroyed.

And, when Elrond calls the council, Aragorn knew that Mirkwood would be among the invited realms. Legolas would certainly come as the representative of the Woodland Realm as he has guarded the creature Gollum since Aragorn and Gandalf dropped it off. Aragorn knew that his friend's heart still ached over his actions... that the elf knew that his treatment of the child turned her away from them. He also had a feeling... just as certain as the one about darkness brewing... that he hadn't seen the last of Raven.

Middle Earth was becoming a darkening place. Soon there would be many unexpected individuals forced to make a stand on one side or the other. Such is that fate of war.


	41. Chapter 41

The days soon fell into a pattern for Evelyn and Nightshade. During the daylight, the pair would roam their lands, enjoying the freedom of wandering through the wilds without fear of being hunted or pursued. Evelyn spent many hours refining her skills with her knives and bow, battling false opponents and practicing new forms. She also often took the skies, flying high and low, Nightshade chasing after her. They invented a game where she would give the wolf a head start and try to chase her through the trees, twisting and turning, testing her limits on how narrow of a gap she could fly through.

The land truly was a slice of paradise.

The earth was rich and alive, the waters would whisper what Evelyn was certain were secrets whilst the wind flowed freely. As she walked, Evelyn made sure to touch each tree trunk that she passed, greeting each one in turn. The trees loved her and promised to protect her. It was a much appreciated added layer of security for Evelyn didn't truly believe that Sauron would be honorable in keeping his end of the deal. The trees were always wary though, they were always watching the boarders and so far, nothing foul had attempted to enter.

The problem came to be in the evening when the pair would return to their home. Each night they would be greeted by an ever cheerful Glorfindel.

Evelyn wanted nothing more than to ignore him, to lock the door and pretend that he wasn't there... but such was practically impossible to do. He was talkative, cheerful, and brimming with energy every time she walked through the door.

"Elenya," he called out the moment she and Nigthshade crossed the threshold. "Just the person I wanted to see!"

She granted him an impassive look before pouring some water into a basin to wash her face. He merely continued to speak.

"While I certainly appreciate having my own erm... facilities in this lovely home as now we don't have to engage in that tedious affair of drugging me each time it's required... I believe that I am desperately in need of a bath."

That got Evelyn's attention as she turned to look at him. It was true that he had been locked in his cell for almost a week and all during that time, the most he had was a bowl of water and a rag to clean himself. It seemed that Sauron hadn't been _too_ attentive in constructing the cell for Glorfindel. She looked at Nightshade and she could practically hear the wolf shrugging as she said,

_I don't see why you think I would have a solution._

"Well you're guarding him," she ordered Nightshade who merely yawned and settled down where she could clearly see the elf.

Evelyn left the house to find a large, wooden tub that she usually used for laundry in the shed behind the house. She rolled it right into Glorfindel's cell and dumped several buckets of water in it, pointedly ignoring Glorifndel's offers to assist her. She then tossed a rag and a bar of soap at him before turning and walking out the door, calling over her shoulder,

"Fetch me when he's done."

She didn't wait around to see Glorfindel's reaction to such and didn't even have to check if Nightshade was listening. As much as the wolf teased, she could always be relied upon when Evelyn needed her aide. Thus Evelyn spent the next hour or so bathing herself in the waterfall behind her home. The water was a bit cool as the sun was setting, but she enjoyed the refreshing sensation. The setting sun made the water glow a brilliant amber and for a little while, Evelyn was lost in the rushing water.

The sparrows had all gone to sleep and the crickets already emerged to sing the symphony of night. Soon, owls would be on the prowl to hunt for other creatures who rose with the moon. As much as Evelyn always loved nature, birds had always held a special place in her heart. She was never sure why, but after gaining her wings and learning to fly... she finally realized. It was the freedom that they held, the beauty of rising into the clouds, wind brushing through her feathers as she soared above the treetops. When she was flying, there was no one but her, she was alone with the sky above her and the earth below. Flying was like being suspended in time where nothing could touch her: not her fears, not her foes, and not her past. As

Evelyn carefully lifted her wings to keep them from getting wet she savored the brushing of a gentle breeze. Looking up at them, Evelyn frowned slightly. It had been a long time since she sat down and properly cared for them. During her years as a prisoner, she eventually learned that her wings had to be taken care of a bit like her hair as they needed to be regularly combed and straightened. The past several weeks had been filled with activity and she neglected to properly groom them. The inky black feathers were a tangled mess, several sticking out and many pointed in the wrong direction. There were even a good number of leaves and small twigs caught amounts the feathers.

A short bark from inside had Evelyn sighing as she pulled herself out of the water. She quickly dried, dressed, and headed towards her home.

Back to the elf.

* * *

Glorfindel had never been self conscious. Even back in the days of Gondolin he was one of the few elves who would strip off his shirt during particularly hard training sessions. Back in those days of court, it was nearly a scandal each time he did it. Glorfindel couldn't even count the number of times Ecthelion ribbed him about his "habit" of shedding his clothes whilst the Lord of the Fountain always seemed to retain his dignified robes no matter how hard he fought. But, when Glorfindel arrived in Imladris the mild valley was so tame compared to the harsh winds of Gondolin that he found himself training without his shirt on most days. Erestor had tried to fuss over his "propriety" a few times, but the elves of Imladris were nowhere near as prudish as the elves of old.

But, none of that ever prepared Glorfindel for bathing under the watchful eye of a wolf who was eyeing him a bit too keenly for his liking.

He swore that wolf licked its lips a few times.

Glorfindel turned his head slightly so he wouldn't have to make eye contact with the animal as he settled himself into the tub- the animal who by all rights should have been dead. Of course, there was no mistaking the solid black wolf with that little white patch on its forehead... it was Nightshade. The she-wolf was just as massive and intimidating as before and Glorfindel had a ship-load of questions. But, he also wasn't quite as thick as Erestor always seemed to believe and thus he knew better than to get too aggressive in his prying. He was a curious elf by nature... but his experience with Elenya meant that he was perfectly aware of how dangerous asking too many questions too quickly could be.

Eventually, he finished his bath and dressed. To his surprise, Nightshade immediately stood and barked. The splashing that he heard from outside stopped and before long, Elenya was walking through the door with wet hair.

"Could you dump the water bucket?" It took Glorfindel a moment to realize that she was talking to the wolf. She continued to ignore him, talking to the wolf and leaving Glorfindel with the distinct impression that he was only hearing half of a conversation.

"Oh come on, don't be that way..."

"Well I've only got salted meats, we used the last of the fresh this morning."

"Ya, you're going to have to hunt if you want something fresh tonight."

"No, our stores are fine. Only get what you can eat... find a rabbit."

The wolf seemed to be intently listening this whole time, and then nodded once before padding over to his cell, gripping the water filled tub tight in her jaws, and leaving out the front door.

Glorfindel was now watching her with a new level of interest. Of course, it wasn't unusual to talk to animals, the elves did it often. It also wasn't unusual for certain creatures to be better trained or more intuitive to their masters' needs than others. But, what was unusual was for a creature to seemingly converse. The way Elenya spoke to the wolf might have convinced him that she was mad if it weren't for the way the wolf seemed to understand everything.

He was so shocked by the display that he didn't even manage to make one of his usual clever comments at Elenya's entrance. The girl didn't seem to mind however as she took a seat before the fireplace and kindled a cheerful blaze. She then began to methodically remove her weapons and inspect each one before putting it away.

At last, she spread out and stretched her wings, their massive length almost brushed either wall of the cabin. She rolled her shoulders a few times before lowering her wings and bringing one in front of her. Glorfindel couldn't see her face for she sat with her back to him, but he could see the way she began to comb her fingers through the feathers of her wings, picking out little twigs and leaves which she tossed into the flames. For a while they sat there in silence, him simply observing the way her nimble fingers plucked out debris and smoothed down tufts of feathers, but eventually his curiosity over the earlier interaction that he witnessed won out.

"Does Nightshade... does she understand you?"

Elenya stilled for a second before she resumed her work. She didn't bother to turn to look at him, but she did reply.

"Yes."

"Does she... talk? As in, does she reply to you?"

"Yes."

"Oh... well that's... interesting."

"I thought elves spoke to their horses all the time," she said nonchalantly, still working away at her wings.

"Yes but... our horses don't respond. And they don't quite... understand us. They understand our intentions and our moods, they learn to follow commands, but they can't converse with us." Elenya shrugged, still not looking at him. Thus Glorfindel tried again. "I haven't heard of such a creature since Huan, the-"

"The hound of Valinor, yes I know," she said the words so casually, as if knowledge of the Eldar from the First Age was something common.

"He was about the same size as Nightshade, but he was a gift from Orome the Hunter."

Elenya chuckled a bit mirthlessly at that.

"Oh trust me, Nightshade isn't a gift from the Valar. She's a wolf pup who I plucked from the cooling corpse of her mother and dead siblings."

"Has she always been able to understand you, and you her?"

Elenya shrugged. Glorfindel fiddled with the slowly drying strands of his hair for a few moments, mulling over the newest information. No matter what, the more he learned of Elenya... the more questions he had. He was also beginning to seriously recall the times he spent with her when he was injured. He wracked his mind for any information from that length of time while he was healing, but between the pain of his injuries and the numbing properties of the tea that she gave him... his memories were fuzzy.

"May I ask you a question?"

"You've been doing little else."

"Do- do _you _know what you are?"

She grew very still at that, her fingers pausing in their work as she slowly turned to look at him.

Her face was unreadable, constricted with something close to pain, something close to confusion. There she sat, the firelight behind her casted an orange glow that turned her raven black hair and wings into a symphony of amber and deep turquoise, shimmering like the colors of a moonless night. Her eyes suddenly seemed so old, so young, and so unlike the ancient eyes of the Eldar all at the same time. In that moment, basking in the light of the fire and the russet colors left in the sky once the sun falls in the evening, she looked like she did back in Gondolin. She looked like that child who stood before the Balrog trembling as she drew forth the wrath of the beast, she looked like that teary-eyed face which hovered above his, cradling him as he breathed his last.

Without warning the door flew open and Nightshade entered, a distinct stain of blood around her jaws.

The spell was broken and Elenya turned back around to pluck at a few more leave before seemingly giving up. She tossed the small pile of debris into the fire before standing and cleaning up the cabin. Glorfindel held his tongue as Elenya climbed into her bed, the wolf hopping in beside her and setting down. Elenya's still ruffled looking wings stretched briefly before lightly draping across the wolf's back as the pair settled in.

But, just as the fire began to burn low and the sounds of the night grew in their symphony, he heard Elenya whisper. It was so quiet that if he didn't have the ears of the Eldar he would've never heard it... but nonetheless he heard the response to his earlier query.

"No... I don't."


	42. Chapter 42

"My Lord," a firm hand rapped against Lord Elrond's door with far more urgency than is usually carried in the sage elf who spoke.

"Enter, Erestor," Elrond called back and the dark haired elf pushed the door open, immediately crossing the room to deposit a pile of scrolls onto Elrond's desk.

"You must come down at once... a horse has arrived."

"A horse?"

"Bearing no rider," Erestor paused, his lips pursed slightly. "I have not seen it as I came straight to you, but the guards said they believe it to be Asfaloth."

Elrond's mind rang in alarm as he stood and briskly exited his office, making his way to the courtyard. Erestor was following quickly behind. The idea of Asfaloth arriving at Imladris without Glorfindel worried Elrond greatly. He had sensed danger surrounding the elf, he knew that something was wrong... but he never imagined something so severe. Asfaloth was a loyal steed and was not inclined to leave his master without cause.

"How long ago did it arrive?" He asked.

"Mere moments. It should still be out there."

When they arrived in the courtyard, they found a group of elves gathered around the stallion who stood calmly in the middle, not at all uneasy as they would suspect him o be after loosing his rider. Elrond immediately recognized the noble steed as Asfaloth, Glorfindel's mount and became worried. Not only was Asfaloth missing his rider, but he also still bore his riding tack and the supplied that Glorfindel set out with. His packs were still firmly tied to the saddle.

"You said he intended to head north, across the Misty Mountains and past Mirkwood..." Erestor spoke slowly. "He has been one fore some time and unless he hugged the boarder for quite some time... Asfaloth crossed the Misty Mountains on his own..."

"He was certainly determined to reach home," Elrond mused as he slowly approached the stallion.

Asfaloth, for his part, remained docile as Elrond stroked his hand along the with horse's muscular neck. But, the elf paused when his hand caught on something strange. Reaching out slowly, Elrond found a small piece of metal tangled in the stallion's mane. He plucked carefully at the hairs and eventually succeeded in removing what he found to be a small hair clip from the horse.

Holding it up to the light, Elrond was surprised to find a bright, gold flower that he recognized quite easily- it was the symbol of Glorfindel's house. The hair clip was a remarkable piece of workmanship with thin, mithril chains holding dangling feathers. The flower indicated that it belonged to Glorfindel, but Elrond couldn't recall his friend ever wearing such a clip.

"I believe, my Lord," Erestor held out his palm and Elrond deposited the clip into it obligingly. "This appears to be Dammorion's make."

Elrond accepted the clip back and determined that they should question Dammorion as to the origins of the clip. Elrond quickly issued a few orders to have Asfaloth cared for before he and Erestor turned in the direction of Dammorion's forge. They both obviously had theories as to why Glorfindel's horse showed up on their doorstep riderless and bearing a hair clip, but neither were willing to voice any until they got as many answers as possible.

They arrived at the familiar yellowed sandstone building and Elrond resisted the urge to pause and contemplate. He rarely visited this part of Imladris as most of the buildings surrounding Dammorion's workshop had long ago been abandoned or turned into storage sheds. Once, the entire sector of Imladris was alive and buzzing, smoke pouring forth from massive fires and hammers cracking against heated steel. Those where the days when Imladris was known by many as "The Great Forge," those were the days when they were preparing for war.

Dammorian wasn't hammering away at his forge however. When they entered, the elf was sitting at a table delicately carving something into what appeared to be a partially finished arrowhead. He looked up when Elrond and Erestor entered, putting his work down and grinning broadly.

"My Lords," he bowed his head respectfully. "What can I help you with today?"

"We have an item which we wish to inquire if you know the origin of," Erestor spoke first as Elrond held out the hair clip.

Dammorion barely glanced at it before chuckling lightly.

"Oh, I certainly do. A trinket like that isn't often forgotten," he carefully set down his tools.

"Indeed," Elrond replied for the piece seemed to be made of solid gold and mithril.

"It was a commission from Lord Glorfindel, though I doubt he ever wore it," Dammorian still had that grin on his face.

"Might I inquire why you think so?" Elrond, curiosity thoroughly peaked, asked.

"Well because this is the same elf who several months later brought a rather strange maiden with a request to build her a virtual armory. This is one of the arrowheads from that commission," he gestured to the arrowhead on the table.

Erestor quickly crossed the few feet and picked up what looked to be a finished arrowhead sitting on the edge of his desk. The deadly looking arrowhead had a dark black patina with a beautifully etched design decorating it. Amongst the swirling loops and delicate patters lining the edges were images of tiny feathers. The sing arrowhead alone was a work of art- more suited to a necklace than a weapon of war, and likely costed more than an average elf's weekly salary.

"What weapons did he have commissioned?" Elrond asked.

"A matching pair of long knives, forty arrowheads, two daggers, 14 throwing blades... and a suit of armor."

"Armor?!" Erestor looked a bit aghast as Dammorian gestured for them to follow him. He walked over to a side door which he opened and stepped through. There, at the center of the room was a large shape covered in a draping cloth.

"I must admit," Dammorian said as he walked towards the cloth draped object. "Glorfindel's an old friend and he asked me to be discreet about this, but if there's anyone who I would tell it would be you my Lord," he explained to Elrond who nodded.

Dammorian then pulled aside the cloth and revealed a wooden mannequin with a shining suit of armor. But, perhaps calling it a suit of armor was an injustice to the work of art they saw before them. It was obviously elvish steel, but instead of the usual shining gleam it was a smokey black, a black so deep that it appeared to swelling light from around it. The armor was compact, curved for a petite figure and bearing a smooth, unadorned breast plate dropping down into shingles that would allow for maximum moment and very little restriction whilst maintaining protection. The pauldron bore elegantly curved spines lined with mithril that could easily be used to drive into enemies and thin mirthril mail formed the close fitting sleeves creating a shine that vastly contrasted the black plate. Sitting on a stool beside the armor was a pair of black leather vambraces and greaves, both adorned with mirthril to equally decorate and strengthen the build.

Perhaps what caught the eye most however... was the massive wooden structure behind the armor that bore the shape of a pair of massive wings. Draped atop the faux wood wings was a set of beautiful armor designed with an echoing of the pauldron in its design for it held sharp, overlapping plates lining the ride of the wings with larger, pointed spires at the crux of each. The steel was blackened, but edged with mithril to highlight the deadly beauty and strengthen the cutting edges. Then, draping down from the top armor was a beautiful web of mithril, cleverly woven to allow for more flexibility than ordinary mail. The entire thing set likely weighed no more than a few pounds but was far stronger than any steel armor of man.

"It's-" Elrond paused as he stared at the work of art before him. "I've never seen anything like it."

"Neither have I," Dammorian spoke with a hint of reverence in his voice. "By far the finest piece I've ever crafted and likely the finest I ever will. There's still a bit of detailing which must be done... but it's a masterpiece."

"When was all this commissioned?" Elrond asked.

"Glorfindel ordered the greaves, vambraces, and hair clip a few days after he returned from his- uh... missing period," Dammorian stuttered a bit, but Elrond didn't push further. He knew the Gondolin veteran and smith were old friends and he had no intention of prying unnecessarily. "But-" Dammorian continued. "He had the full set commissioned after that large orc battle near the boarders. As for the weapons... he brought the maiden herself in... at least I assume such for while I never saw the wings that he described, she was the exact size and he was fawning over her with the enthusiasm it takes to commission this type of work."

"And so you simply built a set of armor for wings larger than any bird on Middle Earth?" Erestor asked, one eyebrow raised.

"My Lord Erestor," Dammorian casted a sly grin towards the stern counselor. "When Glorfindel, the re-born Balrog Slayer of Gondolin comes to you with a commission for a set of armor worth half the total annual wages of all of Imladris for one who he claims is the most remarkable creature he's ever met... you build the armor."

Erestor seemed thoroughly silenced by that and Elrond thanked Dammorian before leaving. As they were walking out the door however, Dammorian called to them.

"He's missing... isn't he? You've found the clip but not him?"

"...yes," Elrond replied sadly.

"When I crafted that piece," spoke as he walked towards the departing elves. "There was something other than me guiding my hands... something tells me that it'll always find its way back to its owner."

"I hope you are right, Dammorian," Elrond replied before he and Erestor left.

The walk across the filds and back to the main house was painfully long and filled with an uneasy contemplative silence. When they reached Elrond's office, Erestor lingered for a bit longer. He stood on the opposite side of Elrond's desk eyes grazing across the mess of papers scattered about.

"You think he found her, don't you?" Erestor asked.

"Yes... I think so."

"Glorfindel isn't one to abandon his duties though," Erestor persisted.

"No, he is not."

"Then why-"

"I think the Valar have more a part to play in this than we can see," Elrond spoke with a tone of finality that Erestor recognized. His Chief Councilor and old friend acknowledge this closing of the discussion, bowing his head before leaving Elrond's office.

Once alone, Elrond had a moment to contemplate what he saw. That armor... he swore it was familiar, like he had seen it from the corner of his eyes in the midst of a dream. The inky darkness of the steel, the shining mithril accents, a pair of massive black wings with spider-like webbings of mithril protection swooping across a battlefield of smoke and ash. They were rising above chaos, rising above a field of death and destruction.

It was unsettling... but obscure. He still couldn't quite uncover what his visions meant or what they could become.

One last through struck him though, just as Elrond pulled out the warrior's roster with an intent to determine who he could send in Glorfindel's place... he came to a realization.

The armor that Glorfindel commissioned... it covered every spot that Raven had been wounded in.

* * *

Evelyn was thoroughly irritated. Her wings had become far worse over the course of the last few days... well, perhaps they hadn't become worse... she was just noticing them more. She had spent her entire life since landing in Middle Earth as either a prisoner, or a convict on the run. She never had a moment to breath, let alone relax and thus... certain things were neglected.

Sure she kept herself decently clean, she was from the 21st century after all. But, her hair was usually washed once a week at most and simply braided out of the way. Her clothes was perfectly functional, but usually ended up being patchwork with more of her crudely tanned leather patches than the original fabric. What she neglected most however, was becoming quite clearly her wings.

After her initial run through to get the majority of the debris out, she found that they were still itchy. In all honestly, they had probably been for quite some time... but with her constantly running, fighting, or healing from battle wounds... it was likely that she just never previously noticed.

Now though, she sat angrily running her fingers through her feathers, trying desrletly to clean them without getting them water logged. Nightshade had grown so irritated with her grumbling that the wolf decided she would go out and patrol the boarders. So, she was left in the cabin with her chained elf companion as she contemplated chucking the bowl of water she was using out the window. Half of her wings were clean... but the other half she just couldn't quite reach no matter how much she maneuvered them. It was after she uttered probably the twentieth curse that she heard Glorfindel clear his throat.

"Elenya... I could uh... assist?" He seemed to speak with half a question in his voice.

Evelyn looked him over and was once again amazed by how at ease he seemed. There he was, sitting with a metal collar around his throat, a chain linking him to a tiny cell... and yet he could still smile as if the entire world was filled with nothing but sunshine.

She weighed out her options carefully. Nightshade would likely scold her when she got back for getting so close to the elf... but really what could he do? If he decided to strangle her, then he would still be chained up and would slowly die of starvation... if Nightshade didn't slaughter him first.

_Plus, I don't think he could do that, _a small part of Evelyn's voice whispered.

Making up her mind, Evelyn decided that the wings were annoying her enough to risk it... _Just because of the itching, _she told herself. Thus, she wordlessly picked up the bowl of water and cloth, carrying them over the Glorfindel. After placing them on the ground beside him, she slowly turned her back and unfolded her wings, allowing him access to the tangled feathers.

Evelyn couldn't help but startle at his first touch, but he was merely pushing her hair to the side. He then began to slowly run his fingers through her feathers and she had to consciously resist the urge to sigh in relief as his surprisingly warm and gentles hands delicately untangled the plumage. He then carefully wiped the small section with the cloth asking gently,

"Did that work?"

"Yes," she replied, her hands now fidgeting absent mindedly in front of her. He worked in silence for a little while longer, the only sounds being the birds outside who Evelyn occasionally answered. She found herself slowly relaxing, the tension draining from her spine as Glorfindel's hands worked gently through her feathers. It was like the most gentle and yet best massage in the world. She could see the way his strong, warm fingers wove through her feathers, straighten them out and scraping away and dirt or oil stuck in between them.

"Would you mind if I asked you a question?" Glorfindel asked, forcing Evelyn to blink awake from her half conscious state.

"You may ask... though I may not answer," she replied.

"That sounds fair," Glorfindel hesitated for a moment more as he struggled with a particularly knotted mass of feathers. "Why do you use a fake name? Why refuse to give your true name?"

Evelyn mulled over his question and found herself chuckling a little bit when she realized how foolish her answer sounded. It wouldn't be harmful to give though.

"In all honesty... it stated as an accident," she began her story. "This comes back to my Grandfather... he used to always tell tales of the Fay... beautiful, powerful, and tricky creatures with some benevolent, some malevolent. There are many rules around how one interacts with Fay... mind you they don't actually exist where I come from, but as I've said before... my Grandpa believed in them. Anyway... one rule that he drilled into my head, over and over again... was '_never reveal your true name to the Fay... it gives them power over you._' He used to claim that the Fay knew secrets about every human who walked the earth, and all they needed was your name to wield those secrets. He'd tell me _'your name is a secrete girl... guard it from the Fay.'"_ she paused to chuckle again. It was all a bit ridiculous really.

"So you think the Eldar are Fay?" Glorfindel sounded genuinely puzzled.

"No... not quite. We all have ways of coping and mine became my Grandpa's old fairy tails. I told them to myself for quite a while to stay sane. When I first arrived in this world, I likened elves to something like the seelie or 'good' Fay. I know you're not... but that's what my mind sort of latched onto. But then," her voice grew a bit soft as the less pleasant part of her story unfolded. "No one bothered to ask my name... and soon I felt like the elves could only be the unseelie... the dark Fay who deceive others, who betray those who they call friend, and who are fair of face though foul of heart. "

There was an audible pause highlighted by the still singing birds.

"So you remain reluctant to reveal your name... because you fear it'll be used to control you?" Glorfindel asked. His voice wavered in his words and Evelyn resisted the urge to turn and look at him over her shoulder.

"It's become habit at this point... It wouldn't feel right to hear my real name." Evelyn's hands strayed to the edge of her shirt. She was still unbelievably relaxed with Glorfindel picking his way through her feathers. "My 'real' name is my old name, it belonged to the old me who died in a cell in Mirkwood years ago. I'm Raven now... I'm not who I was, and I can't go back."

"To me... you'll always be Elenya."

* * *

After the Lords left, Dammorian covered the armor back up with the sheet. He was about to leave the room, when he paused. Something was pulling him back. He wasn't sure what, but it was as if something was tugging at him... urging him to return to the room, and so he did. Once there, he allowed instinct to guide him over to a small bundle in the corner, also covered in a sheet. He pulled it off to reveal a half finished piece.

There, sitting in a sad heap was a knocked over model of a wolf the size of a small horse. The half-finished armor that had once been set on it was laid out on the floor where it fell. The pieces that were completed were beautiful, designed to match the other set as it consisted of blackened, mithril lined steal designed for protection without hindering the wearer's agility with unnecessary weight.

Glorfindel had it commissioned alongside the full armor set... but a few days before his most recent disappearance, he had stormed into Dammorian's workshop. Dammorian honestly couldn't tell what emotion Glorfindel was feeling at the moment for he was filled with enough sorrow for tears to leak from his eyes and enough rage for him to kick over the wolf model holding the incomplete armor. He knocked it over in a fury before telling Dammorian to "forget about it" and proclaiming that it "had no purpose anymore."

Dammorian didn't have the heart to destroy the beautiful pieces, but he had no reason to continue working on them so they sat abandoned. But now, something, that same feeling that had urged him to linger in the room now urged him to continue working on the armor. It was the type of urge that felt so pure.. it could only come from one source.

Dammorian was many things... but disobedient to the Valar he was not.

Thus, he lit his forge... he had an armor set to finish.


	43. Chapter 43

When Glorfindel finished her wings, Elenya stood and stretched, rolling her shoulders and opening her wingspan all the way till her flight feathers brushed the walls. She released a content sigh and Glorfindel realized that he had never noticed her so relaxed.

"No to complain, for I really didn't mind doing that," he began as casually as he could. "But why don't you ever just dunk your wings into the water."

Elenya was walking about her home, dumping the water and putting the cloth into a pile of what he presumed was to be washed. She hummed lightly to herself in thought.

"While these wings are good for flying... they were never really made much for water. Have you ever seen a blue-jay swim?" Glorfindel shook his head 'no' as she continued to speak. "My wings get waterlogged easily... they're heavy and don't do much against current... I'm sure you can image that I learned that the hard way."

Memories of the Grinding Ice assaulted Glorfindel as he recalled the way gaps in the ice would open without warning, leading to elves dropping through cracks that quickly sealed shut. There was nothing that anyone could do when that happened, they were just forced to watch through the semi-translucent ice as the one trapped underneath was pulled by the current, quickly out of their sight and to the depth of the black sea underneath.

"I'm sorry," he pushed as much genuine sorrow into his words as he could.

Then Nightshade was back and seemed rather pleased that Elenya was in a better mood. Glorfindel would swear that the wolf nearly smiled at him as it puttered about the cabin before curling up at the hearth. In turn, Elenya was seeing to her weapons- a near daily ritual. As she tested the edge on her blade and gently worked a honing stone across it, Glorfindel's eyes kept wandering towards Nightshade.

He knew that his capture, his imprisonment, had to be at the orders of Sauron. Who else could forge a chain such as the one binding him? It was no great mental leap to assume that the price for this untainted home that Elenya had was his capture... but what about Nightshade? Glorfindel once fought in the War of Wrath, he knew the fierce pride of Morgoth's most trusted lieutenant and thus he couldn't believe that he would give so much... life to the wolf and the home for merely his capture.

There was also of course the question as to why Sauron would bother to make bargains with Elenya... did he know something more about the girl? Sauron took what he wanted... he didn't make deals nor did he forge bargains with others. What about Elenya was special enough in his eyes for him to do such a thing?

"You know," he smiled lightly, "I dreamed about you for many years after I was reborn... some night the dreams were so real, I relived that day in Gondolin."

He didn't miss the way her spine instantly stiffened. Nightshade was staring at Elenya as if waiting to see if she would respond, which she eventually did.

"As did I," she whispered, refusing to turn to look at Glorfindel when she spoke.

"You, you did?" He gasped in surprise, instantly sitting up only to be yanked back by the metal collar still around his throat. He braced one hand against the steel as he coughed to catch his breath. This sound finally encourage Elenya to turn around, frowning slightly as she did.

"I was just a kid... I had nightmares for years," an edge of coldness crept into her tone, but Glorfindel wasn't deterred.

"How old were you?"

"...sixteen."

"Sixteen?! But, by Edain that is just-"

"A child... yes, I know."

"You were brilliant," he said after a long bout of silence. "You- I've never seen such courage before. You saved an entire city and now-"

"I don't care," she suddenly exploded, turning around as her wings flared up behind her. "I don't care about saving anyone!" Glorfindel flinched back at her outburst, the force of her wings beating in the enclose space was enough to pin him against the wall. "I tried to save lives then what I was a kid, and I tried again when I was first dumped here and I'm done trying!"

"Elenya... Elenya please- I-" Glorfindel opened his mouth to apologize, but he couldn't get a word in. Elenya was furious, he recognized the mark of pent up rage before him. He too had had the occasional fit in the years following his resurrection in Middle Earth. He wasn't certain how long Elenya had been in Middle Earth for, but it had become quite apparent after his first few days with her that she wasn't centuries old. There was a gap of missing years between the fall of Gondolin and her return... he wasn't certain how but he knew that it was the only explanation.

Her grief was still fresh, far more raw than Glorfindel's for he had centuries and the support of Elrond to guide him through his re-birth.

She had been alone.

"I hate you all, you're-you're all part of this. You're world can die for all I care!" Her voice was crackling as she started to back up towards the door. Nightshade was by her side and glaring at Glorfindel with an accusatory stare.

"No, Elenya please," he was straining forward against the collar again, ignoring the pressure it put on hit throat. "Please you're better than this-"

"No I'm not. I've already started it... Mirkwood is ash and the King rules no more."

"Did you-" Glorfindel's eyes widened in shock, but Elenya continued to back up, shaking her head and wiping her arm furiously across her face.

"Don't you know... it's already started," her voice had dropped and was eerily monotone. "The war is coming... and I don't think I care."

"You can't mean-"

"This world can burn, and I don't care," with those words she turned and fled out the door, Nightshade hot on her heels as the pair disappeared into the forest.

He recognized the type of outburst that she just had. Such a thing hadn't been uncommon in his soldiers the time when they crossed the Helcaraxe, or at times during the War of Wrath when it all became too much. It was the breakdown of a battle-weary soul who yearned for peace and who had grown tired of fighting a war that they thought they would lose.

Through trial and error he had learned the cure for such ailment, a painfully simple one. The cure was simply to hold the individual, to clasp them tight when they screamed that they wished to be left alone, to promise them that they were loved and that they mattered as they raged their hatred for the universe. But, at the moment he couldn't do that. He couldn't launch himself at her and claps her tight, he couldn't wrap his arms around her as she beat her fists against his back and wept into his shoulder. He was still chained to the ground, still trapped in the little room whilst she was alone, only her wolf to remind her that she wasn't completely alone.

This left Glorfindel to sit in silence, to wonder where he went wrong in speaking to her, and where the world went wrong in abusing her.

* * *

"Silwena, it is good to see you," Aule said to one of the two Maiar standing guard outside the gates of a home he once knew all too well.

"You are not welcome in the home of our mistress," the female with flowing auburn hair stated plainly.

Aule switched tactics and attempted glared daggers at the Maiar, but she and her companion refused to move. They were loyal and unswayed by the anger of the Valar. The pair stood guard holding long wooden staffs, each appearing to have living vines climbing up the wood and blooming beautiful flowers. They stood before a gate made of living brambles and a moss covered path leading to a home built into the trees. Once, Aule had been welcome at the estate... now, and most especially after his last visit, the followers of Yavanna refused to even send a message to their Lady.

"It's alright, Silwena," Yavanna called, walking down the steps of the tree and approaching Aule. The Maiar respectfully bowed her head before retreating a short distance, though she didn't open the gate for him. "What do you want?" Yavanna demanded.

"No pleasantries?" He smiled, attempting to tease out the banter that he and the other Valar once shared.

Instead, she glared at him across the bramble fence with a cold expression on her face. She waited in silence for him to answer her first inquiry and it became apparent that she wasn't about to rise to his bait. His face fell as he realized that she had most certainly not forgiven him.

"I came with news of the... Child."

"And what new have you that you presume I lack?" Yavanna crossed one arm over the other, impatience coloring her eyes.

"A favorite Firstborn of mine, I-" he began, but was quickly cut off my Yavanna.

"Yes I know of the armor. What of it?" She snapped.

"Well," he, unlike Mandos or Este, was not known for his patience. Yavanna's sharp tongue was quickly getting on his nerves for he intended to arrive to make peace, instead he was not even so much as allowed over the threshold. "I thought you should know that despite my doubts, I am helping the Child-"

"After everything, _everything _that has occurred," the Giver of Fruits grounded her words out from between her teeth as she seethed in rage. "You finally put aside your petty hatred of the Child to invest the slightest amount of effort into a cause meant to save all of Arda, and now you want praise for it?"

"I only meant-" his voice rose with indignation, but Yavanna once again beat him to it.

"Go," she demanded, pointing over his shoulder in the vague direction of Mandos' halls. "Go off and lament with the Feanturi over injustices if you wish but leave me be. I have a meeting with Orome and Varda and I have no time to waste with you."

With those words, she turned and left. Her Maiar were immediately back at their posts and once again, though this time more forcefully, refused Aule's request for access. Eventually, he gave up and returned to his own home, briefly checking on the Eldar smith who still worked on the armor meant for a wolf like no other. The smith was laboring away diligently at his forge, hammer striking the steel as he molded it into shape. Aule was comforted in the fact that he had at least one follower who still remained loyal to him.

* * *

Arwen could practically hear the anxiety emanating from her father's study. She knew that he and Erestor were still awake as they poured over the rosters of Imladris guards. There had been no word of Glorfindel's whereabouts, not even the wandering company of Gildor Inglorian had heard news from him. Between the lack of sightings and Asfaloth sitting in the stables, she knew that it was a safe bet that Glorfindel wouldn't be riding out to find the Ringbearer.

So now, her father and his chief counselor were pouring over the guard rosters trying to find individuals who were powerful enough to ride against the Nazgul with at least a sliver of hope for success. There were precious few who were both strong and fast enough. Her brothers had already been sent out, but as of the last message that they received from Mithrandir... they were on the wrong path. It seemed that the path most likely for the Ringbearer to be one was still left untraveled. No one was coming for them.

Her mind made up, Arwen rose from bed and donned her gray leathers. Her father was fiercely protective of her for she was his youngest, but, she had been raised with two brothers and under he guidance of her grandmother Galadriel. Most importantly however, she had the blood of the Maiar flowing through her veins. She was a descendant of Melian and was one of the few left alive with such power flowing through them.

She crept through the halls and to the stables where she found Asfaloth, Glorfindel's loyal steed, standing still and serene. He was awake though it was deep in the night and Arwen suspected that the stallion somehow knew what his task was. Although he was notorious for not allowing any but the Golden-haired captain ride him, he remained still and cooperative as Arwen saddled him. Unlatching his box, she hopped astride without the slightest protest from the stallion and he followed her willingly as she guided him out.

The moment they crossed the bridge, they took off like a flash of lighting. Beneath the moon they rode, sprinting down the path where they were to find the Ringbearer.

Arwen clutched Asfaloth's mane and crouched low so as to aide the stallion in his flight. The life of her beloved and the fate of Middle Earth rode with them, and she could feel their lingering weight.


	44. Chapter 44

Evelyn quickly fell back into her old routine of avoiding Glorfindel. She and Nightshade spent their days outdoors and only returned at night to feed him, refill his water jug, and then sleep. He tried many times to talk to her, but she merely ignored him. She couldn't talk to him because he reminded her too much of who she used to be... ever since he brought up that night of Gondolin she couldn't get that out of her head.

It wasn't even the fire or the flames that got to her. No... she was used to facing those horrors. It was the memory of a time when she cared, the memory of how much she wept for a creature that she never met back in the days where killing another living being would be abhorrent to her. She had been stupid, rushing to save someone she didn't even know with no regard for herself. She was stupid again when she got dumped in Mirkwood and she once more tried to rush forward and save lives. That time though, she learned the consequences. She couldn't go back to being that person, that child who wants to save and help everyone.

If she learned one thing from her time in Mirkwood... it was that some creatures didn't want to be saved.

"It's not my world," she explained to Nightshade as they lounged in the crux of a tree. "Why should I care about its fate?"

_"Because you do."_

"No, no I don't," she insisted, though she sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than her companion. "This is your world... do you care?"

Nightshade released what would only be described as a huff.

_"My mother and siblings were slaughtered by the pup-slayers. I have neither home nor pack save you. I will journey with you no matter your choice."_

"And if Middle Earth burns?"

_"Is that what you want?"_

"I- I don't know..."

_Something at the boarder..._

The whispering voices of the trees alerted Evelyn that something strange was encroaching. Instantly both she and Nightshade were alert. One hand flew instinctively towards her hips where she found her blades firmly strapped in place. She looked at Nightshade who nodded once and the pair took off, following the directions of the trees they guided her path.

When they reached the edge of her land, she saw it.

Sitting patiently on a branch of a tree just outside the boarders was a black bird, a crebain, with a note tied to its leg. Looking around warily, Evelyn saw no sign of any other and thus, she carefully stepped outside the protective boarders of her home. The bird was obliging enough and allowed for her to untie the note before it flew off. She quickly stepped back onto her land and moved back into the protective embrace of the trees.

She held the little scroll up to the light and saw _Raven _printed across it in flowing script. The wax seal bore some sort of mark, but in the light of the fading sun it was difficult to read. Thus, she found herself indicating to Nightshade that they would return to the cabin. She would read the message then.

* * *

"If we have been betrayed, then this puts much of our work into danger," Elrond spoke solemnly.

Mithrandir had only been in Imladris for a few hours, and in that time he managed to give Elrond a substantial headache. The wizard was sitting in a chair near the hearth in Elrond's office, his feet propped up on a stool and smoking the infernal pipeweed that Estel had taken up smoking sometime during his travels. Elrond knew that his tense advisor was reigning in all his composure to not snatch the pipe right out of the wizard's mouth.

"How certain are you that-" Erestor began, but was cut off by Mithrandir yanking the pipe from his mouth and leaning forward to yell.

"Saruman bid me to join his side, stole my staff, and locked me at the top of his tower when I refused! He has turned to Sauron and is arrogant enough to believe that he can cross the Deceiver himself." When he finished, he took a deep breath before biting down on his pipe, once more leaning towards the comfort of the fire. He stared into its flames for a while. "Though we cannot ignore him for long, there are other concerns at hand. Frodo Baggins is on his way here as we speak. He bears the One and, though its burden is great, carries it with a pure heart."

"There is, perhaps, another problem in out plan-" Elrond began, but was cut off by Mithrandir.

"Yes, I noticed the absence of Lord Glorfindel. Tell me then, Lord Elrond, why is he missing when Imladris may be most in need?"

"I believe it is a long story," Erestor said.

"Then by all means..."

And so, with a heavy heart Elrond recounted the tale of Glorfindel's disappearance, his mysterious savior, her shocking return, her wolf's death, and her flight from their boarders only to be soon followed by Glorfindel. When saying it out loud, Elrond was forced to admit how ridiculous and fantastical it was, for an Edain girl bearing wings and powers beyond any the elves had seen. Mithrandir listened closely though, interrupting only a few times to ask for clarification or details on specific parts of the tale. When Elrond finished speaking, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, falling into something akin to a meditation for several long minutes. Finally, he opened his eyes.

"Tell me," he paused. "When she knocked everyone back, you mentioned a light. Describe it."

"It was," Elrond chose his words carefully. "Like starlight, like the glowing of Elentari herself, or the precious light of the Silmaril."

"Hmmm," Mithrandir returned to his pipe, making no further comments on the matter.

"I take it you know something of the girl?" Erestor asked.

"Know? Why most certainly not Master Erestor," he had that edge old twinkle in his eye again, his previously somber disposition quickly masked. "I cannot claim knowledge of this girl who I have yet to meet."

"But you know something," Elrond raised an eyebrow at the wizard though he wasn't quite sure why he bothered. He had known Mithrandir since he first arrived on the shores of Middle Earth and in all that time, the Istari could never be persuaded to give up information until he was ready.

"Oh well I most certainly know something. I know many somethings. But, if I were to go about telling you all that I know then this meeting would go on for far longer than you'd care."

"Enough," Elrond held out his hand with a resigned sigh. "Let us move on from this matter. We still have much to discuss."

"Yes, the fate of the One."

"Indeed."

"It cannot remain in Imladris once it arrives," Erestor said, tucking his hands into his sleeve as he did so.

"No, it cannot. But it's fate is not to be determined by the Eldar alone," Mithrandir was serious as he spoke. "The decision made on the One will effect all creatures of Middle Earth."

"Indeed, for I have called a council. Messengers are on their way to call representatives of race to Imladris. They should arrive by the end of October."

"And Saruman?"

"I never sent a message to him... I had an ill feeling about doing so."

"It is well that you heed your gifts, Lord Elrond," Mithrandir seemed to have lost focus in the conversation, his eyes drifting towards the fire as one hand absentmindedly stroked his beard.

* * *

Over the past few weeks Glorfindel found himself utterly miserable. He really thought that he was making progress... she was talking to him and opening up little by little. It was all going perfectly until he opened his big mouth just one too many times. In fairness to himself, that blow up was probably inevitable. The girl was weary and afraid. For a while, Glorfindel was convinced that she hated elves, then that she was afraid of them, and finally he thought he saw the truth.

_She's afraid to care. _

Or at least that was his running theory. She had obviously been young when she saved him in Gondolin, and if their conversations were anything to go by then she was still young when she first arrived in Mirkwood. Glorfindel was achingly curious as to what she did or said there to cause Thranduil to react so brashly as to lock her up. Knowing the son of Oropher, it really wouldn't have taken much for him to decide that a stranger deserved to be imprisoned, but to go so far with interrogation seemed a bit preposterous even for him.

Just the thought of his Elenya locked up in Thranduil's dungeon was enough to make Glorfindel's blood boil. But, at the same time he couldn't really bring himself to hate Thranduil too much as Elenya was a bit ominously vague as to what she did to him. Glorfindel had a feeling that the elf got just about what he deserved.

His musings were interrupted by Elenya returning surprisingly early. She set about stoking the fire whilst Nightshade settled near the door. Interestingly enough, Elenya stood there beside the fire for a long moment, looking at a small roll of paper in her hands. Glorfindel could just barely make out the white wax seal on it- Saruman's handprint.

"You've received a letter... from Saruman the White?" Glorfindel asked, incredibly curious as to how the member of the White Council could possibly know where to find them.

"Don't sound too excited," she replied dryly, fiddling with the paper between her fingers. She had a pensive look in her eyes. "He hasn't been on your side for a while."

"He- what?"

"Saruman has always been obsessed with the rings and with the concept of power. He's teamed up with Sauron and hopes to cross Sauron at some point and claim the Ring for his own," she had that hollow tone to her voice, the one she always used when she was saying something that she was trying to disassociate with. Glorfindel had learned it well. "Remember there Uruk-hai, those loathsome creatures that Sauron created... Saruman improved them. He bred them with men to create his fighting Uruk-hai. They're bigger, stronger, and most dangerous... they're smarter."

When she said that, Glorfindel instantly knew what she spoke of. During his searches for Elenya, Glorfindel encountered a good number of Mordor's spawn. He fought his way through several roving bands of orcs... but when he encountered said fighting Uruk-hai, the fight had been brutal. There were only four of the creatures and it was in the middle of broad daylight when they ambushed him. Glorfindel had never seen orcs or Uruks capable of such a planned attack, but they nearly took Glorfindel by surprise. Knowing that they were created by an unnatural breeding of men and orcs made Glorfindel sick.

"How do you know these things?" He asked, remembering all the other little hints, warnings, and insults that she had thrown. She knew far more than should be possible.

"I know a lot of things... more than you can probably imagine."

As he opened his mouth to speak, Elenya broke the seal. Her eyes scanned the page and she maintained a perfectly neutral and blank expression. But, something must have been wrong as Nightshade was immediately on her feet and pressing her body up against Elenya's side, the wolf nuzzled the girl until she threaded one hand through the wolf's coarse fur. Elenya, face still blank, dropped to a crouch. She kept one hadn't firmly grasping the letter and the other was gripping the wolf's fur so tightly that Glorfindel saw her knuckles turning white.

"What- what does the letter say?" He asked hesitantly.

"Saruman has a new offer, a trade," Nightshade whined lightly and prodded the girl with her nose, but Elenya continued to read, her eyes were glued to the little parchment and Glorfindel saw a lone tear trickle down to her chin. "He wants to... he wants to give me a way to go home."

"Home?"

"I'm not from Middle Earth..." she furiously wiped the tear from her cheek, but Glorfindel could already see more falling from her glowing eyes. "The world I'm from is cruel, but not like this. He's offering me a way home, to the family- the life I thought I lost for forever."

"And what does he wish for in return?" Glorfindel couldn't help the edge creeping into his voice. Saruman was clever and ambitious, Gorfindel had known him since he was called Curumo and served Aule in Valinor. He had the ability to be more persuasive and deceitful than any being who Glorfindel had ever known.

"He is running a new experiment, to make his fighting Uruk-hai even stronger. He wishes to breed them, instead of with men... with elves," her gaze shifted from the paper to stare into the fire.

"Elenya-" Glorfindel felt his heart rate increasing.

_She... she can't... she wouldn't, _his mind tried to scream.

The metal collar around his throat and the stone walls surrounding him suddenly felt very constricting. He could feel their weight baring down on him, holding him in place. For the first time since he re-found Elenya, he wondered if allowing her to capture him was the right decision.

She was still gazing into the fire as her tone became even more eerily empty.

"And he wants to breed these beasts with the Balrog Slayer."

Glorfindel felt his blood run cold.


	45. Chapter 45

Glorfindel was speaking, but Evelyn couldn't hear him. She was frozen in place, the words of the letter ringing in her ears. She knew what Saruman was doing, she knew how he was manipulating her, preying on what she desired most. How he knew that, she wasn't sure, but there he was dangling it on a stick in front of her.

It was so tempting, to be so close.

_I'm not meant for this world... I've never been meant for it. I didn't care about the fate of Middle Earth two seconds ago, why now?_

Middle Earth had hurt her. It broke her down and ravaged her soul. Every time she tried to help, she was damned for her attempts. So, she decided to stop helping. She gave up on going home, on having a normal life where she could attend college and get a job. She gave up on seeing her family and her friends again. All she wanted was solitude, just her and Nightshade in the beauty of nature. That was all she wanted.

She burned Mirkwood and captured Gollum in exchange for Nightshade's life and revenge; it was a fair trade.

She captured Glorfindel in exchange for solitude and a patch of undisturbed nature for her to escape to; it was a fair trade.

Now, Saruman wanted Glorfindel, he wanted the elf who Evelyn had saved so many times. The elf who she revealed her identity for, the elf who she nursed for weeks, the elf who she slayed a hoard of orcs for, the elf who she cradled whilst he died... and Saruman wanted him.

The wizard was mad, he would break Glorfindel through depravity in ways that the Mirkwood elves hadn't even come near.

It would also be the final seal on Middle Earth's fate.

If Saruman found a way to be successful in his twisted experiments- if he created monster Uruks with the strength, speed, agility, and intelligence of the elves... Middle Earth was doomed. There would be no coming back for the Free Peoples of Middle Earth in a war against such beasts. Saruman was already clever, the only edge that Sauron had over him was the rings... and if Saruman succeeded in creating such monster Uruk-hai, then he may just be able to obtain the ring before the Fellowship could reach Mount Doom. Could another Maiar wield the power of the Ring?

_But I won't be here, _a tiny voice in Evelyn's mind reminded her. If she made the trade, then she would be whisked back home. She would take Nightshade with her, and leave Middle Earth to its own doom. She wouldn't have to live the consequences of her actions.

Only her soul would have to bear such.

She would just have to hand Glorfindel over.

Evelyn finally turned to look at Glorfindel and her heart stopped.

In that moment, his eyes were blown wide, his mouth slightly parted in breath, and an expression of open fear and uncertainty lingered on him. In all the time that she had known the elf, the times when she dragged him from a battle where he _knew _he would die, when she was stitching up fatal wounds... he never looked like that. Every time that he was staring at the jaws of death, he was unafraid. The only time she had ever seen such naked fear and despair was that night in Gondolin.

It was the expression he had when he thought that the people who he loved were to be killed.

He was never afraid for himself, only all the lives he was charged with protecting. He knew that if she took the deal, so many would be doomed. And, he knew that she might just do it.

The expression brought up so many painful memories for Evelyn. She knew what it felt like to bear that fear. She herself had that when she was locked away in Mirkwood, when she watched Nightshade dying on an elvish arrow.

She wanted to hate the elves- because if she hated them enough, she wasn't afraid.

But, she couldn't stand to see Glorfindel look at her like that.

She told herself so many times that she hated him. She wanted to, she wanted to hate him because why? She wasn't afraid of him... what was she afraid of? What about him made her heart beat stronger than her wings as she flew through a gale? What about him made her knees shake and her stomach go queasy?

_I'm not afraid of him, so what about him am I afraid of?!_

_Caring, _Nightshade, who had her massive head resting on Evelyn's racing heart, replied. _You're afraid of caring for him, of loving him and of him being taken away. _

_I... I'm not-_

_You're so afraid that you're considering giving him away so you can't lose him. _

_That... that doesn't make sense-_

_You two legged creatures never do, _usually such a line would be delivered with some amount of sass, but Evelyn could only feel waves of comfort and sincerity from her companion.

She had a choice to make. She could go home, she could leave everything behind and return to the life that she once had and allow Glorfindel to suffer and Middle Earth to burn. She never asked for any of this, she never asked to be ripped from her home, from her friends, her family, and everything that she knew and loved. She never asked to be forced to learn to fight and to kill. In her previous life, she would've never even considered doing such a thing. It was Middle Earth that taught her to be so.

Or, she could deny the request and be drawn into the war. There was no going back from this. If she refused then there was no way Saruman would give up so easily. He knew where she was and her deal was with Sauron, not Saruman. The time for neutrality was over. She wasn't going to get out of this without picking a side.

A surge of purpose rushed through her veins as she stood and stormed over towards Glorfindel. To her horror, for the first time since she had met him, he looked at her with fear. There was a flash of terror behind his eyes as he scrambled backwards, his back hitting the hard stone behind him. There was the slightest tremble in his arms as he gazed up at her with open eyes. Even in the darkened corner of his cell, he still shone with that light of the High Elves. His golden hair was practically glowing as it framed his face, just as it did all those years ago when he was dying in her lap.

She crouched down in front of him.

"Give me a reason."

"What?" There was confusion in his tone, but Evelyn leaned forward till she could feel his breath on her face.

"I- I have to pick a side. I can't just ignore him... I have to choose," her voice broke, but she kept speaking. "Give me a reason to care about this world. Please," she was pleading with him, begging for something, she needed something. "Give me a reason to stay and fight."

"Everything, Elenya, everything." As Glorfindel spoke, it was like a switch had been flipped and his voice rose in confidence. "It is not just the elves, the men will suffer under his reign. The dwarves, the Halflings, all innocent creatures will never know the taste of free air again. And not only them, but the earth itself. It'll burn Elenya, every tree, every meadow, every creature not hunted for food will be driven to nothing. I know there are many who are guilty... but there are so many more who are innocent. Please Elenya... I know you cherish your secrets, but I know _you_. And I know there is too much goodness in your heart to let that happen. I believe in you Elenya... I trust you, and I believe in you."

In that moment, Evelyn broke.

She didn't know how it happened, what word triggered it. All she knew was that one moment she was gazing into Glorfindel's blue eyes, and the next she had her arms wrapped around his neck as she sobbed into his shoulder.

She didn't deserve any comfort at that point. For the rest of her life, she would recall that moment as her darkest, her most evil and twisted time- darker than when she threatened Elrond or burned Mirkwood. She would always recall it as her lowest point- the time when she almost sold Glofindel.

But Glorfindel didn't care. He didn't sense the evil tainting her soul that Evelyn was certain was there. Instead, he held her tight, he whispered soothing words of comfort as she cried her heart out. He rubbed his sword hardened hands across her shoulders and down the length of her wings, rocking her back and forth. He should've hated her, he should've feared or despised her for what she almost did, but he didn't. He just held her: without judgment, without fear, and without hatred. He held her while she cried and screamed into his shoulder. He remained steady, a solid an calm presence as waves of emotions that she didn't even know she could still feel rocked her.

_I don't deserve his love, _she thought as she continued to cry, allowing all the emotions she had bottled up and hidden for so long to break free.

* * *

"I am sorry, mellon-nin," Aragorn placed a comforting hand on Legolas' back as his friend finished regaling his tale. The Halfling Frodo was still recovering in the Healing Halls and the council would not be for a few days, but Legolas had arrived early as the delegate from the Woodland Realm. "Your father-"

"Will recover, fully. Hopefully. The healers say he will certainly survive, but the scarring may be permanent," Legolas' hands idly fiddled with his bowstring as he spoke. "The burns overlap heavily with his old wounds so he may not be fully healed until he resides in Valinor, but when I left he was awake and coherent."

"I am glad to hear," Aragorn observed his old friend. He had known the elf for a good many years, and he knew when he had more to say that he was reluctant to share. "What else troubles you?"

"I- tis nothing," Legolas tried.

"Mellon-nin, to you Eldar I may be yet young, but twas not yesterday that my mother bore me." A smile twinged on his lips as he spoke. "Tell me what else it is that troubles you."

"I should have known it was coming," he finally admitted. "I should have known, felt something."

"Even Lord Elrond cannot always predict the future," Aragorn gently reminded him. "You must not be angry with yourself for not foreseeing what would come."

"In all my years of protecting our realm, nothing has ever gotten past me so easily. How... how did they do it?"

"My Lord Elrond believes that there is more to Raven than we may think."

"She knocked the twins unconscious without even touching them."

"Aye. How I wish I had that skill when growing up."

There was a pause before they both started laughing. The sounds of their chuckles rang out across the valley as the two friends shared a moment of joy before the troubles that they knew were ahead. As their laughter died, they took a moment to relish the cool autumn air. Evening was falling and the sounds of birdsong faded to the chirping of crickets. A few bold stars were just emerging high in the sky. Aragorn sighed and Legolas raised an eyebrow at the man.

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

"Lord Elrond has issued me an ultimatum."

"Oh?"

"If I am to marry Lady Arwen... I must do so as a King," he admitted.

"It is your destiny."

"One I never wanted."

"We rarely wish for such things. Only fools desire to be King."

"So no eyes on the throne of the Woodland Realm?" Aragorn asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

"Hah," Legolas shook his head ruefully. "Ruling suits my father far more than it will ever suit me. I prefer the company of the trees... though the valley's seem particularly hostile as of late."

"Perhaps not the Woodland Realm then, what about a small kingdom, a miniature realm of trees for your own?"

"Yes... perhaps I can be King of the Squirrels?" He asked with mock seriousness.

"Indeed," Aragorn replied with all the seriousness of a severe political discussion. "For squirrels make far finer subjects than wood elves who quarrel with the trees."

Legolas threw a piece of cheese at the man's head and they once again shared a laugh. It was a tense sort of merriment though, for both could feel the looming shadow growing ever darker. In just a few day's time, representatives from Gondor and Erebor would arrive and a council would take place. Whatever happened at that meeting would determine the fate of them all.

Aragorn already had a suspicion as to what conclusion would be reached. He had spoken at length to Lord Elrond who hoped that the council would see reason. For while the elves had the ability to aide them in this quest, they were leaving the shores of Middle Earth. The time of immortals was ending.

"You know," as Legolas spoke, Aragorn turned his head to look at his friend. "Perhaps if King of Gondor doesn't work out, you can come live in my realm."

"With the squirrels?"

"Yes," a smirk made its way to Legolas' face. "They are uncivilized, filled with nuts, and bath rather infrequently. You'll fit right in."

This time it was Aragorn's turn to pelt his friend with cheese from their platter.

For the rest of the evening, they savored each other's company, knowing well that in just a few short days, a council of few would decide the fate of everyone. They would both be in attendance at that council, and they both had their own hopes for how it would end.

* * *

Glorfindel held Elenya tight, he rocked her back and forth through her sobs, grasping her in a hug so firm that had she been fully mortal he might have crushed her. Finally, after so long seeking her, chasing her, and being mere inches away from her... he could hold her. For the first time he was able to truly comfort her as they together mourned her loss of innocence.

He shouldn't have been so comfortable holding her like that. It shouldn't have felt so right to cradle someone who had made deals with Sauron or considered selling him off to be used in the creation of even more foul beasts than orcs. But, Ecthelion had always accused him of being a reckless idealist. Glorfindel always rebuked that he wasn't an idealist... he just had faith. He wasn't really sure what he had faith in. Unlike so many of the elves of his current time who were born on Middle Earth, he knew the Valar, he had walked among them and thus he knew their imperfections. He still prayed to them, still obeyed them... but his faith lied elsewhere. When he first met Elenya, that was the first time in his life when he knew exactly where his faith was.

It was with her.

Eventually, after an unknown amount of time, Elenya's sobbing ceased. She sat for a while longer in his arms, her fingers making their way to idly tangle in his hair. In return, he found himself smoothing down her dark locks and carefully picking out tangles. Finally, the spell was broken and Elenya pushed herself to her feet. Glorfindel briefly mourned the loss of contact as she stood and scratched Nightshade behind the wolf's ear before grabbing a bag. She was then quickly moving about her home, packing waterskins, dried fruits and meat, spare cloths, and other travel supplies.

"You think this world is worth saving?" She asked. Her voice was a bit raw from crying, but there was a new edge to it. Glorfindel could hear the steel and determination behind it.

"I know it is," and then, Glorfindel realized what had to be done.

"There's a lot that I know... I know of a lot of things that will happen, some things that may, and some things are unknown as I've already messed a couple of them up," she was strapping on her weapons, preparing herself for her mission ahead. "I think some of these things can be fixed."

"You know a way for us to win, to stop Sauron for good?"

"Yes."

"Will you, will you truly do it? Will you help us end the spreading darkness?" He asked, so much hope soaring through his heart.

Elenya paused what she was doing. She was securing a thick cloak around her shoulders and Glorfindel took a moment to wonder at where she received such a fine piece of clothing. It was not of elvish make, but far too high quality to be crafted by men.

"I've spent too long hiding. The only way to stop him, is to end him and you- you're world deserves better." She turned and looked at him, her eyes glowing with an intensity that Glorfindel had yet to see. "I promise that I will do all that I can to stop him."

Glorfindel breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing that. He knew, with that same instinctive faith that he had before when he first saw her, when he was resuced by her, and when she ran and he went to find her... he knew that she would follow through. He knew that she could do it. It was when she was in the process of strapping a blade to her wolf that Glorfindel finally worked up the courage to speak. He did so with great regret, but he knew what _had_ to be done.

"I've known Saruman for a long time... and it will not be long before he realizes that you don't intend to make the trade... When he does realize, he-"

"He will come and try to convince me in person with his honeyed words and deals, then by force."

"Yes... and I'm assuming you don't have a key," Glorfindel asked, holding up the chains attached to his collar.

Elenya looked at him and frowned.

"No... I don't."

"That is alright," Glorfindel took a deep breath. He knew this was coming, he knew that it had to happen. He took a short moment to close his eyes and collect himself, to savor the memory that he had of holding Elenya tight, to remind himself that she would fulfill her promise and save his home. He shouldn't have been afraid, he had died before under far less pleasant circumstances... and it was a bit poetic for Elenya to be present at both his deaths. "Okay," he exhaled slowly. "Thank you, Elenya, I know you can do it."

She paused what she was doing and looked at him, her head tilted to the side in confusion. Her wolf nudged her hand and she began stroking its head, her eyes still on him as he continued his soliloquy.

"I want you to know, Elenya, that I have always cared for you, and I always will. I trust you, so please. Leave me a blade, and I'll wait for an hour to know that you've gone before I..."

"What are you talking about?!" She interrupted him, looking at him as if he were mad.

"Elenya please, I won't ask you to do it, but just leave me a blade so that I may-"

"No."

"If you stay then Saruman will-"

"I'm not staying."

"Please, if you leave me then-"

"I'm not leaving you for him to find."

"Then-"

She stormed over and crouched down, putting two hands on his chain, fingers feeling along the metal as she appeared to be checking for any sign of weakness or fault. Glorfindel almost laughed as she did so. He had unfortunately known both Maiar from their days in Valinor.

"Elena, please... both Sauron and Saruman were once servants of Aule the Smith. Whichever one forged these chains, they will be impossible to break. You are needed out there. Middle Earth needs you. Please, just leave me a blade for I do not wish to fall into Saruman's grasp."

Instead of replying, she closed her eyes. Her fingers tightened on their place on the chain and her entire face clenched in concentration. Glorfindel watched in fascination as her armed trembled for a moment before her whole body went still. Suddenly, her eyes opened and white light poured out from them, the light was so bright that for a half second it nearly blinded Glorfindel. Then, white light began emanating from where her hands met the metal chain.

There was another flash of pure white light forcing Glorfindel to screw his eyes shut. And, when he opened them, Glorfindel found the chain and collar gone, in their place was a small pile of dust.

Glorfindel was in so much shock, he had nothing to say.

Elenya in turn, simply stood up. For a moment she swayed a bit on her feet before grabbing onto Nightshade for support. She then turned and pulled an old, worn out cloak from a small chest and tossed it at Glorfindel who caught the cloth more out of reflex than anything.

"Your cloak was torn beyond repair. That one's too short for you so you'll look ridiculous, but it's the best you're gonna get. Your weapons are in there," she pointed to another chest, this one under her bed. "I'm going to go fill up our waterskins. We'll leave as soon as you're ready."'

"Elenya," Glorfindel finaly found a way for his voice to function. She paused and looked at him. A million things ran through his mind, exclamations, words of thanks, and about a thousand questions. In the end he settled on one simple question. "Where are we going?"

"Erebor," she smiled slightly, disappearing through the door and followed by her ever present wolf who moved with her like a shadow.


	46. Chapter 46

Evelyn rode on Nightshade's back whilst Glorfindel ran alongside. The elf was fast and they were making good time. They had traveled through the night and dawn's light had long since passed, giving way the glaring brightness of the high sun. The trip was done in silence, though Evelyn could practically hear Glorfindel thinking and asking question in his head. For the moment though, he gratefully held his tongue as Evelyn silently said goodbye to the place that, for a short period of time, was home to her. It was the first home that she had in a long time, but, like her true home, because of her choices she would never be able to return. Before long, the entrance to Erebor was clearly in sight.

As they got closer to the doors, Evelyn pulled the hood of her cloak up and indicated for Glorfindel to do the same. He looked a bit ridiculous as the cloak we was wearing was an old one that Evelyn once nabbed from where it hung in Laketown. It was faded, tattered, and barely reached the top of Glorfindel's thighs. But, nonetheless he tucked his long hair under the fabric and pulled the hood over his head as low as it would go.

"Amends may have been made, but the dwarves are still not overly fond of elves," she stated dryly.

"That I am well aware of," he paused and Evelyn could tell he was looking around, checking for any signs of threats. "Tell me Elenya, is there a reason why we are at the Lonely Mountain?"

"There is someone I need to speak to."

_"So how are you expecting to explain this to the short-folk?" _Nightshade asked.

Glorfindel's head swung to look at the wolf who, to his knowledge, was making a low grumbling sound.

_"_I'll figure it out,"she replied.

Now Glorfindel was once again staring at Evelyn.

_"You know he's going to think you're insane."_

"I think it's too late for that," she chuckled lightly.

"Are you alright?" Glorfindel asked.

"Yes yes, I'm fine." Evelyn encouraged Nightshade to move forward, into the view of the dwarves guarding the front entrance to the mountain. "Just don't say anything, let me do what I came here for."

_"Told you so," _Nightshade was laughing, but Evelyn pointedly ignored the wolf.

The doors to Erebor were massive and a beautiful example of dwarfish craftsmanship. Four dwarves appeared to be guarding the doors decked in full armor with two bearing massive axes and two with large war hammers. They were typical dwarfish stock: near Evelyn's height though much broader, thick muscles, chain armor, and long beards tucked into their belts. They were glaring at the three approaching figures with obvious suspicion in their eyes.

"Halt," on ordered gruffly. "Who approaches Erebor with their faces shrouded?"

"Who we are is unimportant," Evelyn replied, her face still shadowed by her hood and the mask the she once wore hiding her face further from view. "I come to speak to Gloin, son of Groin. Tell him that Raven is here to see him."

"A raven?"

"No, Raven," Evelyn corrected the guard. "He'll know who I am."

The dwarves briefly broke out in whispers among themselves before the speaker turned to them once again.

"Gloin son of Groin is not in the mountain at this time. State your business or be on your way." He demanded once again.

This gave Evelyn a moment of pause. She knew that if he wasn't there, then that meant he was already traveling to, or at Imladris for the Council of Elrond. Now she had to find a way into the mountain without Gloin vouching for her. Weighing her options carefully, a few ideas popped into her head.

"I come to see King Dain. And who am I addressing?" She asked.

"Dwalin, son of Fundin. What business have you with the King Under the Mountain?"

_Dwalin?! _It must have been a lucky day for Evelyn. She knew that what she was about to do was risky. In fact, what she was about to do was precisely what had gotten her into trouble when she first arrived in Middle Earth. It was precisely the origin point of all her trouble that followed.

But, this time she wasn't a scared child.

This time she could fight.

This time she wasn't alone.

Evelyn gently stroked Nightshades fur for a few moments, relishing the steading comfort of the wolf. She slid her eyes to the side, watching Glorfindel stand there beside her, still and serene. He hadn't opened his mouth yet and appeared to be completely trusting Evelyn and following her lead. She wasn't alone this time.

"I have information that he would wish to hear, Dwalin, brother of Balin, son of Fundin, decedent of the noble house of Durin."

Her words had the expected effect as he bristled strongly. The other guards also appeared uneasy as they shifted back and forth.

"And how do you know these things, Raven?" He asked, his eyes squinting and his hand straying towards his axes.

"I know many things, Dwalin. I know that many years ago, you were the first dwarf to arrive at Bilbo Baggins' Hobbit hole wearing a dark green hood. I know that you now loyally serve Dain Ironfoot who I must speak with for the safety of Erebor. If I wished to cause harm, I could've entered through the secret way that your company once did, the western side of the mountain, up the stone stairs and to the smooth rock where a door stands, five feet high and the keyhole three feet above the ground. Smaug may had brought down the stones alongside it, but I daresay that I could find a way in, through the tunnels and to the bottommost cellars. If I am correct in all these things, they you know that I do not speak idly. Guard me as you wish, but I will speak to Dain Ironfoot."

Dwalin went very still at Evelyn's words. Part of her was surprised by how calm he was as he stared at her with a new light in his eyes. Beside her, she could sense Glorfindel staring at her from under his hood, probably wondering where such knowledge could have possibly come from. She figured that she would explain to him later.

"Tell me then, how did we discover the door?" He still held his axes, but he was now far more interested and seemed to be sizing her and Glorfindel up.

"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the key-hole," she repeated the secret lines with ease. _The Hobbit _had been a favorite book of hers when she was a child and she had read that line many times, imagining discovering secret doors to a lost kingdom and vast treasures.

Dwalin turned and conversed with the other guards before reluctantly stepping down from his post, one of his fellows following him.

"We'll take ye to see King Dain, but one wrong move and the both of you are dead. Leave your... wolf outside."

"She comes where I go. Relax," she smirked under her mask as she and Nightshade pushed past Dwalin towards the door. "She isn't like the wolves who drove your company up the trees."

Evelyn, Nightshade, Glorfindel, Dwalin, and the other guard all made their way through the bustling tunnel of Erebor where dwarves traveled to and fro, some walking whilst others rode upon carts pulled by ponies. Glorfindel, even with his face and hair covered by Evelyn's old cloak clearly stood out as he towered above all the dwarves surrounding them.

The further they walked, the more Evelyn was amazed by the sights. The mountain was no longer a place of empty caverns and long forgotten halls, it was a city filled with life. They walked through a particularly large cavern which seemed to be some sort of market as stalls lined either side of the walkway. Dwarven merchants stood outside their stalls, hawking wares of cloth, weapons, and exotic foods from all around Middle Earth. The bright colors, boisterous atmosphere, and torch lit space assaulted Evelyn's senses. She hadn't been around so many others in such a long time.

When they arrived at a pair of ornate doors, Evelyn knew that they were at the throne room. Dwalin knocked and said something to the guards who quickly opened the doors.

"Remember," Dwalin growled from the side. "If you make one move I don't like, you and your companion are orc bait."

Evelyn didn't grant the threat a reply, but she saw Glorfindel nod his head in acknowledgment.

Then, they were in the throne room of Erebor. Sitting on a massive throne made out of stone was the Fifth King Under the Mountain. He was dressed in splendid shining armor with a thick fur cape over his shoulders. A broad crown sat across his stern brow which seemed to reflect the light of the Arkenstone above his head. He was broad shouldered and his hair was silver, but there appeared to be strength yet in his arms. A long and flowing beard was adorned with broad beads and his hands were clad in black leather gloves. Dain Ironfoot was every inch a dwarven King.

Evelyn resisted the wave of nausea upon finding herself once again standing at the foot of a King's throne.

_You are standing, Nightwing, _Nightshade's soothing voice echoed in Evelyn's mind. _This time you are standing, not kneeling. You are not alone, I am with you always. _

Evelyn scratched the wolf's ear in thanks.

"I've been told that you wish to speak to me. I suppose you have good reason to. From where do you hail?" He spoke gruffly, suspicion clear in his eyes.

"And who... would you suppose me to be?" Evelyn was forced to admit to herself that she was curious. This King Dain was looking at her with something unique in his gaze. There was a wary sort of caution, not the hatred or spite that she was used to seeing in the eyes of a king.

"Another messenger from Mordor? I have not yet come to an answer for Sauron's... deal," Evelyn noticed how at the mention of the name, several rather conspicuous guards tightened their grips on their weapons.

It was then that Evelyn recalled how, just a few months before the Council of Elrond, a messenger of Mordor arrived to offer Dain a deal in exchange for his information on Hobbits and the One. Dain was supposedly honorable and wise enough to know not to deal with Sauron, a streak of wisdom that Evelyn seemed to have lacked as of late.

"I am not of Mordor," she assured, one hand on Nightshade and the other on her blade beneath her cloak just in case he declined to believe her. "I come bearing a warning for Erebor. I know that you have already sent Gloin to Rivendell to consult with Lord Elrond, and I can tell you that he will return with warnings of Sauron growing in strength. You must be ready for war."

"You seem to know quite a bit about my mountain Miss..." he paused, waiting for Evelyn to give him a name.

"You may call me Raven. I assume that Gloin spoke to you of me."

"And how do I know that you are who you claim to be?"

"With this," Evelyn slowly drew forth the blade strapped to Nightshade's side. The dagger was long, deadly, and beautiful. Even from afar it was clearly a work of dwarves craftsmanship with the wrought silver of the hilt gleaming under the torchlight. Evelyn handed the blade to an approaching dwarf who brought the dagger over to Dain. The King held the blade carefully, his eyes and hands scanning it up and down as he inspected the sigil on the hilt.

"I see," he was now looking at Evelyn with a new light in his eyes, a type of curiosity and something close to amusement. "So you are the mysterious informant who he spoke so highly of. He claims you performed many feats... I didn't picture you... thusly."

"I know not what he claims of me, but you've seen the results of my work and my words. Several weeks back, the dead pack of orcs and wargs."

"That was you?" The King leaned forward in interest, his voice a bit incredulous. "My soldiers couldn't find a single blade mark, but it looked as if they had been blasted to pieces. How did you do it? Was your companion with you?" He gestured to Glorfindel as he spoke.

"I was alone, and how I killed them is none of your concern. Merely take the incident as proof that what I say is true."

"You make a convincing argument," he sat back in his throne, placing a hand to his chin as his eyes flickered between Evelyn and Glorfindel. "But I find trouble in taking the words of one who conceals their face."

"If I may," Glorfindel looked at Evelyn who, after a bit of thought, gave him a slight nod to go ahead. She wasn't sure how much longer she could play this game with the King and if Glorfindel thought he could help... then it was worth a try. "I believe master Dwalin may remember me." As Glorfindel spoke, he pulled down his hood to reveal his face. "I met him when the party of Thorin Oakenshield traveled to Rivendell, bearing a map for my Lord Elrond to read and elvish weapons forged in ancient city of Gondolin where I once resided."

"Ah, Lord Glorfindel," Dwalin gave a broad smile. "Of course I remember you. Why didn't ye say something at the gate?"

"I did not think it wise to announce my presence out in the open," he replied easily.

Dwalin turned to King Dain.

"I can vouch for the elf, your Majesty. He is a Lord of Elrond's house," Dwalin gave a short bow and Dain nodded in acknowledgment.

"Well then, Raven," Dain handed Evelyn's blade back to the dwarf who passed it down to her. "You bear Gloin's sigil and your companion bears Dwalin's trust. I shall hear you say your piece."

Evelyn inhaled deeply. Seeming to sense Evelyn's unease, Dain, much to the shock of several of his guards, dismissed the majority of the dwarves in attendance at court. They all shuffled out of the room, closing the grand doors of the throne room behind them and leaving only the King, Dwalin, Evelyn, Nightshade, and Glorfindel. Only then did Evelyn finally worked up the courage to speak.

"Sauron grows in power, this, Gloin will tell to you when he returns from the Council. But I can tell you this; in mid March, Sauron's Easterling allies will launch an attack on Dale. They will need you and your warriors to aide them."

"We have good relations with Dale, we would not abandon them in the wake of an attack," he replied stiffly.

"I know, but a few days before the attack on Dale, Mirkwood will be attacked," Evelyn ignored the way Glorfindel's head openly swung in her direction at the mention of the place. "Dol Guldur will open its gates and Sauron's ilk will invade the Woodland Realm."

"And you come to me with this news why?" The words had a hint of accusation, but the old dwarf seemed more curious than wary.

"I have no standing with the men of Dale and I am not welcome in Mirkwood. I suggest," she paused a moment. "That for the good of Middle Earth, you send warning and a few warriors who you can spare to Mirkwood... they are unprepared for war."

Evelyn could feel Glorfindel's eyes burning a hole into the side of her head, but she ignored him. She knew that what she did must have surely weakened Mirkwood's strength. Mirkwood was supposed to win, but they were down a fortress and a King... not very good odds. Despite her hatred for Thranduil, she knew that Mirkwood was a strategical advantage to Sauron. If it fell... then who knows how the war would turn.

"That is grave news indeed," the King looked thoughtful. "And if I am to send a messenger to Mirkwood bearing this news, what will I tell them?"

"Whatever you please," she said with a shrug of her shoulders and feigned indifference. "Although..." her voice wavered slightly as her facade began to crack.

Dain seemed to notice this and in an instant he was on his feet. Evelyn reeled back, one hand planted on Nightshade's hackles as the wolf growled, the other on her blade. Glorfindel reached a hand out and placed it on her shoulder, but she could hardly feel it as adrenaline rushed through her body.

"Easy," Dain murmured, one hand out in a placating gesture. "I mean you no harm." He paused and said something to Dwalin in Khuzdul. The other dwarf nodded and moved to the far wall, opening up a small side door. "I believe that this conversation is one not suited for a throne room. Come."

Evelyn, shocked by the sudden warmth of the dwarf's tone, warily followed the King into the small room. Nightshade raised her nose and gave a cursory sniff before deeming it safe, and thus the party all sat on stools around a stone table.

Getting away from the throne room had an instantly calming effect on Evelyn. Despite being underground, she suddenly felt that she could breath again. Just as she was getting her bearings, Dwalin returned from an alcove and set several tankards of dwarfish ale on the table. Dain took a large gulp of his before setting it down with a satisfied sigh.

"Listen now Lass," he leaned forward, a kindness in his eyes that Evelyn first saw in Gloin. "I've known my fair share of trouble, and I've seen a wee bit of it myself. I know the look of someone on the run and I understand that the elves of Mirkwood can be... unpleasant." He paused, his eyes scanning over Glorfindel who had politely taken a sip of his ale and Nightshade who was leaning against Evelyn's side. "Now, I think you're trying to do the right thing, and I think you're speaking the truth. If that's so, then I'll send my most silver-tongued emissaries to the Wood King's home and I'll have em spin a tale with warnings of all the dangers you've told without you in it. But, I need to know that I'm sending him honest information. I've been King for a while now, and I've learned to judge honesty from lies. To do that, I need to look you in the eyes as you tell me what you say is true. And if you're honest with me, the elves will never know it was you who came to me with this warning, that I'll swear on my beard."

When he finished his speech, King Dain leaned back in his chair and took another long draught of his ale. Beside her, Evelyn could feel Glorfindel with his eyes ever on her, always watching. She took a moment to think, to let her own eyes wander the small chamber carved into the bedrock of the mountain. She took a few seconds to ponder what this little meeting room was supposed to be, how many secrets the grey walls and flicker torches had heard. It was a strange thing, how quickly the King Under the Mountain could move from his ornate throne to a simple stone stool, how he could move from cold to warm in a few seconds. Stranger still was how easy it made Evelyn feel.

_I think the short-folk are honest,_ Nightshade's voice floated into Evelyn's head.

_You think we should trust him? _she silently replied.

_I sense no deception, and he is a friend of White-beard. White-beard has not deceived us, why should his King?_

With Nightshade's words in mind, Evelyn slowly raised her hands. She pulled away her hood and then hooked her fingers beneath her mask, bearing her full face for the Dwarfish King to see. She then leaned forward, mind made up and task set she placed both palms on the table to ground herself as she spoke.

"Mirkwood and Dale will be attacked mere days apart. Sauron is growing in power and is a great threat to the Free Peoples of Middle Earth. If you do nothing, then Mirkwood will likely be overrun and Sauron may then be able to use the Elvenking's Halls to launch attacks on Erebor. You must be prepared for war on both fronts, or all may be lost."

For a long while, Dain looked into her eyes. Unlike Sauron's shadowy figure who seemed intent to shirk from her gaze, the Dwarfish King met her eyes in determination. When he saw something, what it was Evelyn didn't know, he nodded his head and sat back, gesturing for Dwalin.

"I believe ye, Raven," Dwalin handed the King a piece of parchment and a quill. Dain began to write as he spoke. "I will do as I said, messengers will be sent to Mirkwood with a small troop of what warriors I can spare. As for you, I take it that you and Lord Glorfindel won't be staying long?"

"It's best if we leave immediately."

"As I thought," he nodded, half to himself. "Then I'll have a horse found for Lord Glorfindel and bags packed with provisions for the journey that I'm sure you two have ahead. May Mahal be with you, wherever you go."

"...thank you," Evelyn finally managed to choke the words out.

Dain merely gave her a firm nod and one look that may have been the dwarfish equivalent of a slight smile. From there, Evelyn and Glorfindel were whisked away through a series of side tunnels. By the time they emerged at the gates of Erebor, a horse bearing a saddle and laden bags was waiting for them. Dwalin offered a rough goodbye, and they were off.

They traveled west for some time. It wasn't until a few hours after the mountain disappeared from view that Evelyn emerged from the haze of her strange encounter with the King Under the Mountain. She didn't know where the kindness and sudden shift in demeanor came from, but in that moment she understood why Tolkien had claimed Dain Ironfoot to be a wise and noble king.

As if sensing her thought, Glorfindel spoke.

"Very few would be capable of bridging the ancient grudge between the Sindar and Dwarves. King Dain is one of the few."

Evelyn nodded in agreement, Nightshade's smooth gate rumbling beneath her as they shirked the boarders of Mirkwood long into the night.

"It's a shame that by the end of war, he will be dead," she said softly, more to herself in contemplation. Despite his gruff manner, the dwarf was far closer to what Evelyn always imagined a King to be before meeting Thranduil.

"Pardon?"

Evelyn sighed, remembering the books that she once loved, the characters that she never forgot in the wake of meeting actual beings of flesh and blood.

"When the battle turns against them, King Dain Ironfoot will stand above the body of King Brand of Dale, defending the slain man and dying upon the steps of Erebor. If all goes well... the tide will be turned by their sons."

Glorfindel fell silent, seeming to ruminate on her words. But, Evelyn knew that it was about time. He was certainly curious about the apparent wealth of knowledge that she had on Middle Earth's past and future. She had to explain it all to him. He had to know.

The question of course was... how would he react?


	47. Chapter 47

"We're heading west," Glorfindel lightly prodded.

"Yes."

"And where is the west are we-"

"You're traveling to Imladris," Elenya replied, her gaze not meeting his as she swept the horizon.

"I'm traveling... I think you mean we are-"

"You seriously think me welcome in Imladris?" she turned her sharp eyes to Glorfindel.

The pair had been riding for several days, careful to keep away from the edges of Mirkwood as they trekked towards the Misty Mountains. Glorfindel had been riding the horse that the dwarves found for him whilst Elenya rode upon Nightshade's back. Nightshade's footfalls were nearly soundless and Glorfindel was a bit shocked by how quietly and quickly the girl and wolf could be capable of moving.

"Elrond denies hospitality to no one," he replied to Elenya.

"The last time I was in Imladris I tried to kill one of his guests, attacked him, and insulted his sons."

"You had good reason to." Glorfindel sighed. He has been meaning to talk to her about this. "After you... left, we spoke to Legolas and learned about what he did to you whilst you were in Mirkwood's dungeons... I understand-"

"But does your _Lord_?" She said the word 'lord' with a sort of mocking slant to it. Glorfindel got the distinct feeling that she didn't think much of Elrond's title.

"He does and I doubt he will hold it against you. It seems you know how he was raised. Of any elf, he knows that every creature makes mistakes for he has loved those condemned for far darker deeds than you have ever touched," Glorfindel kept his voice calm, but he wasn't too proud to plead with her. After everything they went through, after all the pain and sorrow that he had seen in her heart, he couldn't let her just disappear on him once more.

"I shall see you to the boarders of his land and give you a list of things that must happen in this war. You can discuss-"

"And what if something is wrong? What if something is occurring that must be remedied... but then how can we know what to do then? We need you, Elenya. I need you there," Glorfindel urged his horse onwards as Elenya and her wolf had sped up a bit. "Please, you cannot leave..." as he caught up he caught her eyes a smirked lightly. "You should know by now... if you run off then I'll just come chasing after you. I'm infamous for my stubborn streak; in fact, I couldn't even stay dead properly."

"And if they shoot me on sight?"

"They wouldn't dare, not with me by your side," he smiled again. "Come on Elenya, the twins miss you dearly. When they heard about what was done to you in the Woodland Realm... well I don't think I've ever seen them so furious with Legolas in all their lives."

"Because Elrond will believe the words I say?" Elenya's voice was ironic as she scoffed.

Just as Glorifindel opened his mouth to reply, Elenya held out her hand to stop him. Glorfindel's mouth clicked shut as Nightshade stopped waking and Elenya tuned her head towards a small songbird that was sitting in a nearby tree chirping away. The girl seemed intently focused on the bird, nodding her head several times throughout its song. When the bird finished chirping, Elenya whistled something back to it and the bird took off.

Elenya and Nightshade made a sharp turn south and began walking in that direction, Glorfindel hurrying to keep up.

"There's a rather angry pack of Uruk-hai to the west of us. If we kept traveling that direction we would've crashed into them," she said in way of explanation. "This way we can shirk around them."

Glorfindel nodded, not bothering to question her about the bird that apparently just warned her of a pack of Uruk-hai, instead focusing on her earlier words.

"My lord is gifted with foresight... he understands-"

"I am not a seer," Elenya replied sharply.

She, like Glorfindel, had one hand on her blade as her eyes scanned the surroundings. For a little while, he thought that she was finished with their conversation... but eventually she spoke.

"Where I'm from... your world is told in stories, stories that span to the end of this war and that I've heard many times."

"And you have reason to believe these stories?" He asked. Glorfindel had faith in Elenya, if she believed the stories then they must be some form of foresight, but he was curious. How could someone know and tell stories of the future of Arda? How would Elrond not know of such an individual?

Elenya shrugged.

"My Grandfather used to always say that all stories are true somewhere," the slightest hint of a smile peeked out from under Elenya's hood.

"And this story... it tells of our past... and our future?"

"Yes."

"So you know everything that is to happen?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Elenya released a weary sounding sigh. "Me being here... it's changed things. We went to Erebor because I had to fix a problem that I created..."

"What happened to the Woodland Realm?" He asked, his voice soft as he finally confronted the question that he had been wondering about for some time.

What surprised him however, was that unlike the hesitation she constantly displayed when discussing her past, there was no pause in her speech as she talked of the Woodland Realm.

"I burned it," she turned to look at him, her eyes blazing with that indomitable fire. "I led an army of Sauron's ilk into the great Halls of King Thranduil and I burned them to the ground. I trapped him on his own throne and left him to the fires."

There was no regret, no remorse, and no pity in her gaze as she spoke.

"Is- does the King still live?" he asked, half afraid of what she would answer.

"If his son was swift, then perhaps."

Glorfindel nodded and they lapsed into silence.

He had a lot to think about.

* * *

Nienna, Lady of Mercy, took a deep sip of her tea. She was watching her close friend, Yavanna, as the pair sat together. Este and Vaire too, sat with them as they enjoyed the gardens of Yavanna's estate. Yavanna had a distant expression on her face and Nienna could feel the pain and hope in her friend's heart.

"It seems you were right in trusting the Child," Este smiled lightly. "She is turning back towards the light."

"And who would've thought that the children of Aule would help a soul escape from darkness," Yavanna replied sardonically.

"Ah, you give too little credit to his creations," Nienna smiled. "They have not wrought as much destruction as you once feared they would."

Nienna of course was referring to the ancient grudge which Yavanna held against the dwarves. It was the reckoning that broke what was meant to be a union between she and Aule. The dwarves were crafted with no love for or respect of the natural things that grow and thrive in Arda and Yavanna feared what chaos damage they could cause to her creations. Them coupled with Morgoth who burned the landscape he crossed led Yavanna to creating her own creatures meant to protect her crafts. But, whilst Aule's children were granted life by Eru, Yavanna's were not.

The Giver of Fruits never forgave the Smith for that.

"Tis true," Vaire the Weaver, who crafted the tapestries of remembrance that hung in the Halls of Mandos, sighed heavily. "She still has trials ahead, you should be glad that she has found allies in the dwarves."

"And if their influence harms her?" Yavanna snapped.

"I think little can do more damage than the Elvenking," Vaire replied.

"I think," Este broke the tense silence. "Though we cannot truly call anything that has transpired a 'plan,' we can at least assume that things are moving in the correct direction."

"And the Child's soul?" Nienna asked.

"She has no remorse for her actions," it was Vaire, whose very task was to show fallen Eldar their crimes and teach them repentance, who spoke. "If she were Eldar, she wouldn't be allowed out of Mandos' Halls."

"But she is not Eldar," Yavanna said.

A strange pause of silence passed, for it was true. The Child was not of the Eldar, nor was she fully of the Edain.

Against what scale could they judge her by?

* * *

After several days of travel, it came time to cross the Misty Mountains. The steep slopes were bitterly cold and icy wind blasted them from every side. The had been forced to set the horse loose, Evelyn whispering instructions for it to travel sound down the Anduin river until it found a suitable place to dwell.

For not the first time, Evelyn was incurably grateful for her sure fotted companion as she bent low over Nightshade's back as the wolf climbed up through the thick snow. Glorfindel, as any elf does, glided lightly across the surface of the thick snow banks. His feet never seemed to sink as he skipped across the white gleam blanketing their surroundings. It was a very good thing that Nightshade was large and strong enough to carry Evelyn for she didn't think that she would ever be able to climb up the mountain alone, and she was certain that the wind would bash her against the ragged cliffs if she even attempted to fly.

It was still a cold, long journey. Glorfindel had started exuberantly cheerful as only he could be, but after a few hours on the icy path, his joy seemed to fade. The further they walked the more he seemed to retreat into himself. Evelyn had a distinct feeling that the reason for such involved his memories of the Grinding Ice, but she didn't want to open up that discussion under the already bleak circumstances. Plus, she was beginning to feel far too cold to start such things.

That night, after many hours of searching, they found a small cave that was mostly dry and could provide a modicum of protection against the wind. Luckily, it was only about 15 feet deep with no connecting tunnels and thus, they were able to safely determine that they weren't intruding upon a goblin's home. They had no dry material to make a fire to warm themselves, nor a way to cook food. Instead, Evelyn huddled close to Nightshade whilst Glorfindel peered out of the cave, checking for any signs of hostile foes. They had a cold dinner of dried meat strips and some root vegetables that could be eaten raw.

Evelyn was finally starting to warm as she snuggled against Nightshade when she noticed the way Glorfindel stood with his arms across his chest. Unlike she who had her warm cloak to blanket herself with, he had a thin tunic and a cloak that barely reached his knees, but it was the biggest that the dwarves had been able to find. Now Evelyn knew that it was always said that elves didn't feel the cold... but she also knew such to be a lie. Elves were more resilient to the cold, but they weren't immune.

Evelyn must have been thinking a bit too loud as even though Nightshade's eyes were half closed, she hear the wolf's voice in her head.

_Are you planning on letting the Golden-one freeze to death?_

_He won't die of this cold. _

_He may before morning is high. _

_Since when did you care about pup-slayers? _Evelyn pushed as much annoyance as possible into her thoughts.

_This one is not too bad. Plus, the wind is shifting. Soon snow will be blown into this cave and you'll be cold again as well. _

_...and you're willing? _Evelyn was honestly a bit surprised. She knew that Nightshade had grown a bit fond of Glorfindel back when they first rescued him, but she hadn't though such fondness survived her near death.

_It will keep both of you from freezing. Now get him back from the cave opening or I will drag him here myself. _

Nightshade's eyes were still closed, but Evelyn could swear that she saw a smirk on the wolf's lips. She reluctantly sat up, her side that was previously warmed by the wold instantly felt cold and she suppressed the shiver that ran through her body.

"Glorfindel," the elf turned his head from the outside and looked at Evelyn expectantly. "The wind will shift soon. By the end of the hour we'll have snow pouring in here."

Glorfindel nodded gravely.

"Are you warm enough with Nightshade?"

"Will you be when the snow floods this cave?" Evelyn shot back.

Glorfindel tensed for a moment before nodding his head stiffly.

"The Eldar do not feel the cold. I will not notice," his voice was filled with such false confidence that Evelyn couldn't help but laugh.

"You should stick with slaying Balrogs, lying doesn't suit you."

"I-"

"I know about the Grinding Ice, Glorfindel," Evelyn adjusted her position as she leaned against Nightshade, her wings draping over the wolf's back as she opened them as much as the confines of the cave would allow. "I know that you elves can feel the bite of cold. Come, I will not have you freezing before we reach Imladris."

Glorfindel looked startled, but he slowly made his way over to Evelyn. He looked at Nightshade who now opened her eyes and nodded once at the elf, resting her head back on the ground and waiting.

"Nightshade has given permission," Evelyn smirked when she noticed how apprehensive he still was about the wolf. "I promise she won't take your hand off."

Glorfindel nodded and slowly lowered himself to the ground that Evelyn had covered with the saddle blanket that they took off of Glorfindel's temporary horse. Moving ever so carefully, as if he were about to lay upon a bed of nails, he lowered his upper body to rest against Nightshade. He adjusted himself slightly to get comfortable and found himself pressed against both Evelyn and Nightshade.

Once he was settle, Evelyn brought her wings in around them, cocooning the three figures in a cradle of warmth. It was just in time too as merely a few moments after they were settled, the first gust of icy wind blew in, buffeting against the shield that she made with her wings.

It was a small and enclosed space, the darkness of her feathery curtain allowed only the eyes of Evelyn and the elf to provide light. But, most importantly, it was warm. Evelyn lightly ran her fingers through Nightshade's fur whilst Glorfindel seemed to be content to have his hands firmly planted in his lap. The howling of the wind outside was like an eerie cry and whilst Nightshade seemed to doze, Evelyn found herself still awake.

"Elenya?" Glorfindel, who was also obviously still awake, spoke quietly. There was an undeniable note of curiosity, but also hesitation in his voice.

"Yes," she replied as she realized that she wasn't likely to fall asleep anytime soon.

"How... how were you there in Gondolin?"

Evelyn paused, weighing her options. She knew that she wold have to tell him eventually... she saw this moment coming. Part of her, a rather cowardly part, was glad that the moment was shrouded in darkness where she wouldn't have to bear his gaze.

It was time to tell her story. And oh, what a story it was... how a child dreamed of a monster night after night.

"I suppose for that... I should start at the beginning. For me... it all started with a dream..."


	48. Chapter 48

Evelyn woke to an arm wrapped around her middle and a heavy leg tossed over her hips. The feeling of being restrained sent a surge of panic through her body and kicked her heart rate into high gear. She had one hand already gripping the handle of her knife before her brain fully caught up with her surroundings and she noticed the ticking of hair on her face.

_Glorfindel!_

Her mind supplied the reason for the solid, warm mass draped across her. She repeated his name in her head a few times, forcing herself to calm. When she felt her racing heart quell enough so that she didn't think she would stab him in a bid to escape, she released her blade and prodded the elf in the side.

Now, Evelyn expected that he, as any trained warrior when sleeping next to someone who had attempted murder multiple times, would leap up in an instant. She expected for him to be roused all at once with a sword in his hand and the same caution that he had shown the night before. What she wasn't expecting was for him to lazily groan and tighten his grip around her, trapping her further as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

"Glorfindel," she jabbed him in the side rather un-gently this time as she pushed herself away.

This seemed to finally rouse Glorfindel who slowly opened his eyes. Evelyn watched as the elf's sleep addled brain caught up with the situation, his eyes trailing from his limbs to where they tangled in hers and the spots where his golden hair had splayed out in a fan across her black wings. He inhaled sharply and quickly extricated himself from where he was holding her, apologizing profusely the entire time.

"Elenya, I- er..." Evelyn swore she saw a pink tint coloring his cheeks. "My sincerest apologies... I admit that I was untruthful when I claimed the Eldar do not feel the cold and it appears that, during the night... I became- er... my apologies," he finished his words in a breathless rush, both hands tangled in the hair at the base of his skull.

"No matter," Evelyn replied, pulling herself further from Glorfindel as she shifted her wings, trying to get the stiffness from being extended all night out of them. She was mentally preparing herself for taking down her warm cocoon, absentmindedly wondering why her heart was still beating rapidly when she had already quelled that instinctual knot of fear in her gut.

_I've been waiting for you two to wake up, _she heard Nightshade purr in her mind. _But it seemed such a shame to... interrupt. _

_Not helping, _she mentally snapped back. She could hear the teasing in her wolf's voice.

Evelyn rose, stretching out her wings before folding them onto her back. The air was still bitterly cold, but the morning sun allowed for a little bit of warmth admits the icy snow. It was a good thing that Evelyn allowed Glorfindel to sleep beside her and Nightshade for the wind did indeed blow a large volume of snow into the cave, enough to come very close to packing them in.

She angrily kicked aside several chunks of snow until she found her pack. Nightshade eagerly lept up and accepted the dried venison strips that Dain had been generous enough to have packed for them. Glorfindel was fiddling with the ties of his cloak and checking his weapons. The silence, which Evelyn greatly appreciated, stretched for some time. Eventually though, she was forced to break it with a question.

"How much farther with with reach Imladris?"

"A few days at most," Glorfindel was swallowing a piece of dwarfish hard-tack as he spoke. "Soon, we'll be back to the valley's-"

"Not we," Evelyn cut him off. "Nothing's changed."

With those words, she exited the cave, Nightshade beside her as they continued along their path. She didn't need to look back to know that Glorfindel was keeping up. In fact, she was putting every effort in to avoid looking back. The last thing that she wanted to deal with would be the annoying elf's gaze. She had managed to avoid it all throughout the long night before.

It had been a long night. For only the second time in a good many years, Evelyn told her story in full... how one night she dreamt of fire and flames that were far too vivid to be a mere dream, how the nightmare haunted her for years and ate away at her sleep, how she tried so hard to change it night after night and failed. Then, how one night she fell asleep and woke up in a forest where she was hunted by giant spiders. The rest of her tail unfolded slowly, her stories of Mirkwood, aside from her verbal spars with Thranduil, were dull and filled with the cruelly simple torture of confinement and solitude. She had only ever recited her story in full for Nightshade, and she was glad that she now told it shrouded in darkness for she refused to meet the elf's eyes. She hated the pity that she knew was there.

The rest of their journey was spent in silence as they descended the mountains, slowly making their way out of the bitter cold. Once the threat of freezing waned, they slept apart, Evelyn wrapped tightly around Nightshade and Glorfindel sitting propped up in that strange open-eyed sleep that elves are prone to.

There was a strange tenseness to the air for Evelyn had reveled two things: why she hated Mirkwood, and what she did to it.

Perhaps more importantly, she made her opinions on Mirkwood and its King very clear- she still despised them. She knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, in the eyes of the child that she once was, that she should be sorry. She knew that she would have been remorseful for striking a deal with Sauron and burning down an ancient Kingdom in the past. But, she didn't care. She wasn't that child anymore and she couldn't feel sorry for the destruction that she wrought upon the elves.

Given the choice, she would do it again.

Once they left the Misty Mountains behind they were able to travel with relative ease. It wasn't long until they neared the boarders of Imladris, protected by the power of Elrond's ring. Evelyn stopped and sat herself in the branches of a nearby tree, ignoring Glorfindel's bewildered expression.

"This is as far as we'll go," she gestured to Nightshade who took a seat at the base of the trunk. "Most of the things that have to happen are already in motion... so I'll just explain a few-"

"Please Elenya," he looked exhausted as he repeated the argument that they had shared time and time again in just a few short days. "You must come with me. Elrond will understand," he pleaded. "But we need you in Imladris... no one else has the knowledge that you have and Sauron will be hunting you now."

"I've avoided him before."

Glorfindel looked torn. His eyes kept flickering between where Evelyn sat perched in her tree, and the distant horizon where they knew Imladris laid. He gave a resigned sigh, turning to look at Evelyn.

"If you refuse to return to Imladris... then I'll follow you."

"What?!" Of all the things that Evelyn expected him to say, that was probably near the bottom of the list. "Have you gone mad?" She asked him incredulously.

"Not at all. But, I'm not letting you run off with Sauron and Saruman on your tail. You're not alone anymore."

"I have Nightshade," she said, the wolf adding in a light growl of acknowledgment.

"You know what I mean... I won't let you face those vile beings alone."

"They're afraid of me," Evelyn crossed her arms. "Why else would they make deals with me and come to me before killing-" _the one who I marked, _popped into Evelyn's mind, but she wasn't ready to mention that aloud yet. "They've always sought to make deals with me instead of fighting me. I'll be fine, but you- Saruman _wants _you. The safest place for you is in the valley."

Glorfindel climbed up the tree until he was standing on the branch right below Evelyn. There was a strange sort of twinkle in his eyes.

"But you see, I'm not going to let you run off and take the brunt of Sauron and Saruman's wrath. Where you go, I'll always follow. Of course," a scheming grin crossed his face. "You did promise to help us win this war and, from the way I see it, if you run off and I follow then I'm not quite sure how anyone's going to get that message-"

"Fine," she cut him off sharply. She actually couldn't quite believe why she was agreeing to this, but it seemed that she was. "We're going to Imladris."

"Excellent!" He cried in delight, leaping from the tree and practically skipping as they went.

The closer they got to the boarder though, the more obvious it became that he was nervous. Glorfindel always talked a lot, but he began to speak _excessively. _His hands fluttered about as he spoke, gesticulating wildly as he explained all the lovely features of Imladris: the architecture, the waterfalls, the gardens that blossomed in spring... He really could go on. For a while, Evelyn bore this in silence and watched how the nervous energy seemed to eventually fade. Evelyn began to see into the cracks of his uncertainties.

"Perhaps," he spoke casually at one point, "it would be best if you wore your hood this time."

He attempted a charming smile as he referenced the way he approached the gates of Erebor cloaked and hooded, but Evelyn met him with one raised brow.

"And you suppose they'll assume that you just happened to meet another rather large wolf?" She gestured to Nightshade who was, of course, very identifiable. "I'm sure they won't think anything of the cloaked traveler who rides upon the black wolf."

"Ah... yes. I suppose you're right," he mumbled.

Then, they reached the boarder of the valley. There were no stone archways or great walls or fences that marked the boarder of Imladris. Instead, there was a wave of warm, buzzing magic cast from the Ring that Elrond bore. Once again, to Evelyn's great surprise, the magic seemed to hum as it allowed her access. The magic blocked all dark creatures from entering the valley and so she wondered how it possibly allowed her in.

The trees that they passed hummed a welcome to her, greeting her return to their home. It appeared that despite her time away, they remembered her still. She caressed the bark of one rather young oak and she felt the way the tree nearly shivered in delight. The softness of the greeting brought the first smile that she had felt since agreeing to enter Imladris. One tree whispered something about the _prince _who had passed through recently and grumbled a bit about his attempts to socialize with them. Evelyn simply stroked its bark and thanked it for its loyalty.

It was then that she realized what she was doing. She was entering Imladris, an elvish realm, after her last disastrous exit. But, this time she entered by her own free will, her own choice. She was running from no one, she was afraid of no one. Glorfindel cared about this world that she was stuck in, and for some reason, that was enough to convince her to walk straight into the home of beings who by now probably despised her.

_If we're walking into the home of the pup-slayers, _Nightshade's voice washed over Evelyn's mind like a caress. _This time they will not see us afraid. _

_Indeed. _

And with that, Evelyn lept atop Nightshade, sitting proudly upon the wolf like a knight on his noble steed. She used to always wear her cloak in such a way as to cover her wings, to hide the feature that made her instantly identifiable as something strange and therefore evil. Now, she edged her cloak back a bit, leaving her arms and the edges of her wings uncovered. The beautiful and complex dwarfish embroidery on her cloak was still obvious, but one could easily see her wings, even from a distance.

_If the elves want to shoot me from afar, let them try._

The edges of The Last Homely House became visible on the horizon and it wasn't long until they could see a small cloud of dust moving rapidly towards them. As she often did, Evelyn wove one hand into Nightshade's fur to ground herself. It was far too late to change her mind... the elves were coming to greet them.

The party was relatively small, no more than 15 elves all astride horses nearly as fine as Asfoloth. They all wore glittering elvish armor and had helmets, but Glorfindel seemed to recognize the one at the head of the party whose saddle was more decorative than the others'.

"Cuhador," Glorfindel called out with a smile on his lips. "Well met, it is good to see you."

"Well met, Captain," he replied with a customary elvish bow. His posture and phrasing was tense.

The elf was obviously quite tall, his dark hair flowing free as he was the only one not wearing a helmet. Evelyn saw the way his eyes made a rapid sweep over Glorfindel, instantly checking him for any signs of injuries or hints of trouble. She vaguely recognized him as one of the elves who had been out searching for Glorfindel that time she held him in her cave as he healed. She never met him however, and so wondered if he had been warned about her. His eyes seemed to widen slightly when he saw her wings lazily peeking out from her cloak, but he said nothing.

"You have been missed, Captain," the elf said after a moment of hesitation.

"I'm glad to be back. You can't get rid of me that easily," Glorfindel had that easy smile that he seemed capable of pulling out in any and every situation. "Could you send a runner to let Elrond know that I'm still on this side of Arda. Tell him that I've brought a friend and that I really need to speak with him and Erestor as soon as possible."

Cuhador nodded and barked a short command that had one elf turn sharply and take off towards Imladris at a rapid gallop. Another warrior lept off her horse and handed the reigns to Glorfindel before spryly hopping upon the back of another rider. Cuhador gave Evelyn one last look which she met head on. He seemed only transfixed on her eyes, but then he glanced at Glorfindel who merely shook his head, and that seemed to be enough for the elf.

Most of the patrol seemed to be continuing with their earlier task. Only Cuhador and two others broke off to ride along side Glorfindel and Evelyn as they made their way closer to The Last Homely House. Glorfindel spoke a little as they rode, but they passed the time mostly in silence. It appeared that the three elvish soldiers were uneasy around Evelyn, but they wouldn't give voice or action to it yet. In all honesty, Evelyn had half expected for them to immediately leap on her and attempt to arrest her. Instead they settled with a mildly wary gaze.

Evelyn wondered how long that would last.

* * *

"Shhhhh," the soothing voice was as unmistakable as the glowing light that he could sense without opening his eyes. "Rest now, Olorin, you've done so well."

The Maiar felt the soft caress of the Star-Kindler's touch as his eyes remained closed.

He remembered the Mines of Moria, the suffocating darkness, the looming threat of drums in the deep- then the flames of the Balrog. The beast, the monster crafted by Melkor attacked them, rushed towards the Riingbearer and he tried to stop it. He stood his ground, he hefted his staff and his sword on the bridge and then it-

"Frodo!" He cried out, attempting to sit up in alarm as he realized that the company was alone. But, something pushed down on him. The presence was feather light and yet bore the strength that only an Aratar could possess.

"Be at ease, the Ringbearer lives yet," her voice was like a soothing balm and he felt his eyes drifting shut as the white light of the Valar lapped over him like gentle waves on the shore. "Tis true, your task it not yet complete. You must return... but not now. Now you rest."

"As my Lady wills," though his voice was soft, he could already feel strength rapidly returning to him. He knew that he fell to his doom in the mines, yet the Valar had brought him back.

"Much has happened since we sent you, Olorin," Varda's voice seemed to fade and become distant as the lull of sleep overtook him. "We will have much to discuss when the time comes for you to awaken once more."


	49. Chapter 49

When they arrived at the entranceway, Evelyn was surprised to see a rather flustered looking elf standing at the top of the staircase. He practically glided down the steps as he launched in a a rapid explanation that just a few days prior, a band of orcs managed to cross the border. A patrol was sent out to get rid of them, but the orcs carried poisoned blades. One member was severely wounded and Lord Elrond was tending to her at the moment. Glorfindel nodded in understanding, sending Cuhador back to re-join his patrol. Then, in a surprisingly, simple gesture, Glorfindel thanked the elf who delivered their message, Lindir, and and asked if Evelyn wished to go to her old room.

Evelyn honestly didn't know what she was expecting to happen when she arrived at those front doors: maybe a furious Elrond who demanded for her arrest, maybe a group of elvish warriors with swords and shackles, or maybe just a blade or arrow ready to slide between her ribs. What she most certainly didn't expect however, was for a cheerful Glorfindel to walk her through the household as if she completely belonged, smiling and offering greetings to a few elves that they passed, completely ignoring the way they all stared at Evelyn and Nightshade before quickly looking away. He guided her straight to the lesser traveled areas of the house and to the room that had indeed previously been theirs.

It was exactly as they left it, with furniture, books, and that same rosebush still in place. Glorfindel was still talking, rambling more like, about anything and everything. Evelyn half listened as she walked around the room cataloging that items that once created a small sense of normalcy in her life. She only noticed Glorfindel when he suddenly went silent, causing her to turn and lookout him with a question in her eyes.

He, for once, wasn't meeting her gaze. Instead, his eyes roamed around the room as he fidgeted in place. He made a few aborted attempts to speak, opening his mouth and clicking it shut each time.

_Oh, _the realization came suddenly to Evelyn. _He has to go somewhere..._

He'd been away for weeks, maybe months. Also, considering the fact that she held him active for a while, he was probably gone longer than expected. In all likelihood, he had a few things that he probably needed to sort out pretty immediately.

"Go," she waved her hand as she took a seat on the bed. Nightshade climbed up behind her and rested her head on the girl's shoulder. "I'm sure you have responsibilities and duties that I've kept you from long enough."

"Nothing like that," he assured. "It's just... well I think it might be best if I speak to Elrond first... before we all uh-"

"I see."

"Don't worry, no one will bother you until then. The Lady Arwen is assisting Lord Elrond in the Healing Halls, and the twins are out on patrol. No one else should be down these hallways."

"Of course."

With that, he hovered for another few seconds before darting off, closing the door gently behind him. Evelyn then found herself sitting in the chair near the window, Nightshade at her side as she idly fiddled with one of her blades. It's true that elvish crafting is far superior to anything that men would create, but the blade had still seen its time. Small nicks and dents from blows that a woman of her size shouldn't have been able to make marked the blade and the wrappings on that handle had long ago disintegrated.

The rosebush, still sitting in that pot beside her, seemed to perk up as she ran her fingers across it, cheerful to see her again after so long. She whispered a few soothing words to the bush, her fingers flitting across the golden colored petals that reminded her so much of someone who she was trying to avoid thinking too much of.

* * *

Elrond sighed heavily as he wiped the cloth across the elleth's brow. She had been badly wounded by an orc's poison-dipped blade and was still unconscious. Luckily, he had managed to draw most of the poison from her system and had the wound stitched and clean. It was a delicate procedure and he initially wasn't sure that he could do it, but she pulled through.

Before rushing into the Healing Halls to treat the young soldier, he had left strict orders that he wasn't to be disturbed. In such a delicate and time sensitive procedure, any distraction could prove fatal. He did recall that, a little over an hour ago, a cautious individual had cracked the door open, likely to check his progress, but then retreated. He suspected the individual to be Lindir, likely to inform him of some important manner the required his attention. Now the door cracked open again and Elrond didn't bother to look up, assuming that it was once again Lindir who would surly inform him of what matter required his attention now that his healing was complete.

"Peredhel!" An overly cheerful and incredibly familiar voice cried out.

Lord Elrond of Imladris was older than most elves still alive on Middle Earth, he was one of the few left who had witnessed the War of Wrath, he had fought armies alongside Gil-galad the High King of the Noldor and led battles in the Last Alliance, he had turned down a Kingship and yet still many looked to him as the last High King, he was a member of the White Council and had the blood of the Maiar Luthien running through his veins. Yet, there was one being in all of Middle Earth who never forgot that he knew Elrond's father as a child and still saw Elrond as something of an extension of him.

"Glorfindel," he said the name before he looked, but as soon as he turned he saw the golden warrior, alive and well. "What... how-"

"Ah Peredhel," Glorfindel smiled as he used the name Elrond often took as a title as a nickname instead. "It's good to see you. Look, you couldn't be rid of me so easily."

"What happened?"

"Ah, that's a bit of a story," the warrior had the decency to look at least a bit sheepish. "I was not away so long of my own will... I- well I may have been captured."

"And you escaped?" Elrond did another visual survey of Glorfindel and found nothing apparently wrong. He still wore his usual tunic and light leather armor that he had set out in, but his cloak was gone and replaced with a ratty, too-short garment.

"Not quite... I was released."

Understanding dawned on Elrond. There weren't many in Middle Earth who would be capable of taking the re-born warrior alive, and even fewer who were the type to release a captive.

"It was Raven, wasn't it."

"Yes."

Elrond sighed.

"No matter, all is well. Arwen rode Asfaloth and retrieved the Ringbearer, the One is on its way to Mordor as we speak. You can still ride out and meet the party to escort-"

"She's here," Glorfindel blurted out the words, interrupting Elrond.

"Pardon?" Elrond knew exactly what Glorfindel meant, but he dearly hoped that he was wrong.

"She... Elenya is... we returned to Imladris together," he now appeared to be particularly interested in the tapestry hanging on the wall behind Elrond.

"You brought her back here."

"And Nightshade," he was still studying that tapestry and avoiding eye contact.

"And the wolf..." Elrond could feel a migraine coming as apparently the wolf had also managed to come back from the dead. "I know you care for her, my friend. But, while you were gone she led an army of orcs through the Woodland Realm, she nearly killed King Thranduil-"

"I know."

"Of course you do," _only Glorfindel could become entangled in something like this. _

"I know what you must be thinking... but she wishes to help us now, and I believe that she may be one of the only ones who can. You've seen her powers Elrond, I've seen more, and I think that she may hold abilities that even she has yet to discover."

"I will fetch Erestor," Elrond rubbed his own brow with a resigned sigh. _Sailing doesn't seem so unpleasant... _"Retrieve Raven and ensure that neither she nor her wolf kill anyone on your way to my office."

"Of course," Glorfindel offered a slight bow to demonstrate a modicum of respect before abruptly turning and leaving.

Elrond paused for a moment and stood, walking slowly towards his Counselor's office. He had been concerned for Glorfindel during his absence, but some intuition had informed Elrond that he would be seeing Raven, Glorfindel's mysterious Elenya, again. She was an enigma: a girl whose eyes shone with light beyond that of the Eldar, who bore wings on her back, knowledge that no mortal should posses, enough rage to raze her foes, and a history bearing good reason for mistrust of the Eldar. Elrond knew that her fate was entwined with that of Glorfindel's, but yet he wasn't yet sure where she lied in the tapestry of Middle Earth's fate.

* * *

Evelyn chose to stand, far too anxious to sit, Nightshade on one side of her and Glorfindel on the other. Behind the broad desk sat Elrond and Erestor- the counselor appearing to be a mix of furious and flustered. In that moment, Evelyn felt oddly like she was on trial with she and Nightshade the accused, Erestor the prosecution, Elrond the judge... but what would that make Glorfindel, her defense? She did the best to quell that ever familiar rage bubbling in her chest at the thought of being on trial, of being forced to explain- to excuse herself to the elves. It had been years since that, but the instinct was still there and hard to quell. It was an instinct that had kept her alive for so very long.

But, this time she wasn't dragged before them, she wasn't a prisoner, and she wasn't helpless. She was here of her own free will because for some reason that she could hardly fathom, she wanted to help Glorfindel. She hated Saruman and Sauron and thus desired to see them fall.

_I can do this,_ she whispered the words to herself in her mind.

_If you want, I can still eat the Grumpy-one, _Nightshade silently offered.

Evelyn couldn't help but release a slight bark of laughter aloud after that comment, drawing several startled expressions. When she finished her chuckling, she crossed her arms and leveled the elves on the other side of the desk with a stare.

"I came here by Glorfindel's request. If you don't want me then I'll walk out that door and never return. But, I can help. I know the course of the 'nine walkers,' or as you so fondly named, 'the Fellowship of the Ring,' and I know the course of the war that is brewing as we speak."

Erestor opened his mouth as if to speak, but was cut off my Elrond.

"We are always grateful for aide against the shadow of the enemy, but I would ask what prompted this switching of sides for we know that you've led an army of orcs," his tone was calm and surprisingly mild. Elrond's face was fixed in an unreadable mask.

"I never had a side, I considered myself neutral." Evelyn could practically feel Glorfindel biting his tongue as she spoke her piece. "But, I have spent... I'm not quite sure if I've kept track, but I've spent a good number of years in Middle Earth, and in that time I had one and only one companion who was true to me. Legolas, who lied to me when I was helpless and afraid, murdered her," Evelyn's hand fell to Nightshade's head to stroke to wolf and remind herself that she yet lived. "I made a bargain to save her life. Tell me Elrond, what would you have done if your brother was killed before you, and you were offered a chance to save his life in return for vengeance against those who killed him and wronged you? Would you have acted so different then?"

The room fell silent.

"Perhaps that is a line of though best saved for another time," Elrond replied, quickly switching the subject. "I should start-"

"I believe an apology is first," Erestor, much to the shock of everyone in the room, spoke up. "At the very least, I would like to offer one from myself. When you were last here, you were a guest in our halls after Savin the lives of Glorfindel, the Lords Elladan and Elrohir, and an entire patrol of our soldiers. Yet, I treated you as one would treat a prisoner because you were different and strange. That is no excuse for what I did, and you owed me not the answers that I tried to demand of you. I am truly sorry for my affronts to you."

_Well that was unexpected, _Nightshade spoke to Evelyn.

It seemed that no one in the room had expected those words from Erestor, and the conversation was quite derailed. Elrond appeared pleased but rather delighted whilst Glorfindel had a comical expression of shock, slack jaw and wide eyes included, as he openly stared at Erestor.

"Perhaps, if you are willing," Elrond gestured for Evelyn to sit which she reluctantly did. "You will tell us your story of what brought you to us with this offer of help."

And so, Evelyn told them her story. She started at the very beginning, a tale of a child from a world where Middle Earth was a fantasy that she was intimately familiar with and where child dreamed of a golden fay battling a demon; how the dream reoccured for years until she was dropped into Mirkwood, running from spiders and being captured by the elves. She told of her imprisonment, how she was cold and hungry and lonely every day. She talked about the way the walls seemed to cave in on her, and how she still didn't know how long she was imprisoned for. She explained her escape, sparing no details in the elves she cut down to gain the weapons that she still carried. How she found Nightshade and pulled her from a den of slain wolf pups, how she built a life on the run. Then of course came the story with Glorfindel and the emergency surgery she performed, then how she followed him back to Imladris. Of course, this was where her tale became more fraught.

She glanced at Glorfindel who gave her an encouraging nod to continue, and continue she did. She wouldn't lie to the elves. Perhaps she wasn't proud of all her actions, but she wouldn't regret them. She wouldn't claim innocence or ignorance, she escaped from the elves and from that moment forth, she looked after herself and Nightshade. And so, she told them about how Sauron came to her, how like a wraith of night he crept upon her and offered a deal in exchange for the ability to save Nightshade. She told them about how he came to her again with a request to kill Glorfindel, how she refused but then accepted the amendment. Then, one last glance at Glorfindel for courage, she told them about the note from Saruman which was the final straw.

"I do not expect forgiveness or clemency from you," she spoke slowly as her tale wound to a close. "I won't won't defend my choices and I won't ask you to understand. But," she paused and locked eyes with Elrond. "I know that Sauron and Saruman are both amongst the vilest things to walk this earth. I know that whilst they yet live, no one, deserving or not, will find freedom or peace. Thus, here I am, offering to help."

All three elves had remained silent throughout Evelyn's tale. No one interrupted, instead they sat silently and just listened, expressions morphing between sorrow, anger, and shock. It wasn't until she finished with her last words that Elrond spoke.

"Your life has not been an easy one, and fate has not been kind to you," he spoke slowly, choosing his words with the great care of a wise elven lord. "I regret the actions that were done upon you, and I regret the actions which you did upon others. But, forgiveness is neither mine to give nor withhold, and I think that we shall accomplish very little by dwelling on the past. If you are willing to become an ally against the Enemy, then I welcome your aide."

Evelyn nodded.

"Most has already been set in motion. If the Fellowship has departed, which I suspect that it has by now, then most things are already set."

"Perhaps," Erestor, surprisingly gentle, interjected. "Perhaps we should start again, new beginnings. I am Erestor, Chief Counselor of Imladris. I welcome you to our battle against Sauron."

"An excellent idea," Elrond smiled, placing a hand over his heart and bowing as he introduced himself. Glorfindel too, joined in. "Would you perhaps, share with us your name? I know you go by Raven, and I know that Glorfindel calls you Elenya, but would you share with us the name that you were raised with?"

Evelyn paused. She had given up on her name so long ago, she had thrown it away with the last vestiges of her childhood. Her name was the one that her parents used to should to get her to leave her books and interact with the world of other people. Her name was the one her friends would call out whilst laughing over some dumb inside joke that they still remembered from middle school. It was the name of a girl who, if you had asked, would've jumped at the chance to save Middle Earth. It was a name of hope and kindness and the goodness of youth. Part of Evelyn wanted that little girl back, part of her wanted her past life again. And so, it was time.

"Evelyn," she said, her name slipping out with a breathless exhale. It had been so long since she last said it aloud. "My parents named me Evelyn."

The room went deathly still.

All three elves present had completely stopped moving, Evelyn almost thought that they had stopped breathing for how still they became. Now, she always though that telling her real name would be a big moment for _her_, that it would lift some sort of weight off her shoulders or open up some wall that she had placed in between her past and current life.

She didn't really expect the elves to react. They weren't the Fay that her Grandfather told stories about, weaving magic with a person's name or revealing secrets hidden in them. But the elves did react, they reacted with probably the last thing that Evelyn would've expected.

All three elves dropped to their knees, their palms and foreheads kissing the ground.

No one moved.

It was Evelyn's turn to be shocked.


	50. Chapter 50

Evelyn felt her heart racing.

The three elves were laid out, their foreheads kissing the ground as they bowed to her like she was some ancient, vengeful god. She looked to Nightshade, but the wolf was just as confused as her.

"Please," it was Elrond and his voice sounded desperate. "My Lady, we never meant to offend."

"We never held ill will upon you, our actions were rash and foolish," Erestor's voice joined in with the pleading and Evelyn still had no idea what was going on.

"My Lady," Glorfindel was choking on his words as her forced them out of his mouth. "I thank thee for having guarded and guided my life so, and I beg forgiveness for the times I have fought against your will. Please, I must beg that you do not take your wrath upon my friends, for I shall bear the guilt of my actions."

"What is going on?!" Evelyn yelled, jumping to her feet and backing away from the pleading elves. "Have, have you all gone mad?" She looked to Nightshade and the wolf seemed just as agitated with the situation as she was.

"My Lady please," Glorfindel's voice sounded broken. "We understand that we have failed thy test. I accept full guilt for these trespasses. But please, I beg of you, this deception is no longer needed."

"What?! I- I'm not-"

"Nay," Elrond, called out. "Glorfindel is a Lord under my watch. These errors are committed in my name. Please-"

"Everybody shut up!" Evelyn had backed up till her wings hit the wall behind her.

She was confused, frustrated, and maybe a mild bit terrified but he way that all three elves, especially Glorfindel, cowered before her. Seeing that hint of fear in Thranduil's eyes had once brought her satisfaction, but now, seeing these elves grovel before her, it made her sick.

All three elves had fallen silent and Evelyn was shocked by the tremor that she saw in their arms. Her own heart was nearly beating out of her chest as she took several moments to collect herself.

"Sit up," she ordered in the calmest voice that she could manage. To her surprise, they all did. "Okay... I get the feeling that we're having two very different conversations here. I DO NOT know what my name means to you, so a little clue would be lovely," her words came out with a half laugh as she sat on the edge of hysterics.

"This is..." Erestor said hesitantly. "This is not a test?"

"A test of what?! Why would I be testing you? Who do you think I am?!"

"You... you really don't know?" Glorfindel slowly stood up, much to the shock of Elrond and Erestor who were staring at him as if he had grown another head. "Oh Elenya, my dear Elenya," he walked forward and placed his sword-calloused hands on Evelyn's shoulders. Up close, he always dwarfed her in size. "You are so much more than even I ever dreamed of."

"What am I?" Her voice was hollow and reedy, Nightshade beside her tensing as she sensed the growing apprehension of the room.

"You are Evelyn of Yavanna, daughter of the Valar."

Evelyn squirmed sharply, breaking Glorifndel's grip on her shoulders as she shot out to the side, edging her way towards the window.

"No... no you're crazy."

"Tis as the prophesy foretold," Elrond now rose as he was obviously becoming aware that his kneeling wasn't helping the situation. _"When the doom of all looms ever near, the Giver of Fruits shall bear a child. To the purest heart she will appear, and ancient fault shall be_ _reconciled_. And the name that has forever followed that prophesy is Evelyn of Yavanna.

"That's not possible," Evelyn replied.

"My Lady Evelyn, your powers, the white light that you used to knock us out the last time you were here, your ability to survive for years in Mirkwood and hide from the Woodland elves, even your wings... Yavanna is the Valar of living things, she is known for her love of birds as they bear her messages." Elrond spoke in a calm and even tone, but Evelyn felt panic still rising in her.

_No... it can't be... there's no way._

Erestor suddenly laughed.

"And nature loves you back my Lady." He had switched from cowering to being barely able to contain his mirth. It seemed they no longer thought her to be "testing" them. "Prince Legolas speaks to the trees, he listens to their whispers and they usually love him back. Ever since you swore vengeance on him, he has complained that the trees of the Valley refuse to speak to him."

Evelyn crept closer and closer to the window. It was a short drop down, short enough for Nightshade to clear with ease.

"I know my mother," the faces of her family, the people who she would likely never see again, flashed before her eyes. "My mom is an orthodontist. She hates dirt and she tried to grow a garden once only to have the entire thing die on her. She's a human, not some goddess."

"Elenya," Glofindel spoke for the first time since she pushed him off, and Evelyn was suddenly glad to hear him still using the old name he made up for her. "The story that your Grandfather told you... about your Grandmother... he described her as 'more beautiful than any woman that walked the earth,' and that she was a magical 'Fay' who disappeared?"

_No... that can't be true..._

"That was a story, a made up fantasy."

"I think you give your Grandfather too little credit. Who chose your name?"

"My parents, they-" _oh, _she suddenly remembered a conversation that she had with her dad years ago. He had joked that he was almost named Evelyn... that it used to be a boy's name but in time, it became a girl's name. When her Grandfather had found out that she was to be a girl... he suggested Evelyn as a name.

"The prophesy is _she,_" he continued. "If Yavanna first gave birth to a male... then perhaps she had to wait a generation for it to be fulfilled..."

"That... that can't be true..." Evelyn was edging closer and closer to the window. "My Grandma left my Grandfather. He's a good man and she dumped him with a child and _never _returned! My dad grew up without a mother and just accepted the fact that she was either dead or a deadbeat!"

"My Lady Evelyn, your Grandmother is an Aratar, an Exalted of the Valar and the creator of all things that grow," Elrond spoke slowly in a tone that one might explain things to a child in.

"I know who Yavanna is!" It was too much. She might be able to dismiss a woman who she never met, but her father had been abandoned as an infant by a being with the power of a god. Yavanna had never bothered to even meet her own son. "So what?!" Her voice was cracking with strain. "Yavanna decides to fulfill the prophesy by running to a different land and having a kid who she deems 'not good enough' and so she just drops him, promises to return and then doesn't?! And then what, she decides to give it a go with me so she just pulls me out of my life like she owns it!"

The inkwell on Elrond's desk began to rattle, and soon the entire room was trembling. Evelyn barely noticed, her focus was honed in on her rage, her fury at this supposed Grandmother.

"Elenya-"

"And so she drops me off in Mirkwood and just leaves me to rot with the Elvenking?! She never spoke to or helped my dad, so why should she bother speaking to me?!"

Books began falling off shelves and Erestor rushed to save a few of the more delicate looking tombs, but he was knocked aside by the increasingly violent tremors. Soon, all three elves had been knocked to the floor as Evelyn's powers shot off energy like a faulty socket.

_"Nightwing!" _Nightshade was howling to be heard above the sounds of rattling furniture. _"Stop this! You'll drain yourself!"_

"Elenya, please," Glorfindel had lept to his feet and had his hands on her shoulders once more. He too was shouting. "Elenya, you have to stop this! You'll tear the house apart!"

She couldn't hear anything, all she could hear was the raging of her heartbeat as blood rushed through her veins. Her past was a lie. She was part... something else. It wasn't an accident that had brought her to Middle Earth, it was a cold calculation by someone who thought that little humans were easy to make and move like pieces on a chessboard; make the wrong one, toss it away and wait for one you want to come. Then, why not just grab the kid, tear her from her family, her friends, her world and chuck her into a new one. She'll survive... probably.

The stone of the floor began to crack, a long fault line opening up in the ground.

"Elenya! Stop, please," Glorfindel's hands were on her shoulders again. She looked up and Glorfindel was standing in front of her. There was a tiny cut running along his hairline and red blood poured forth from it.

_He must have fallen over... I must have knocked him over. _

The sobering though yanked her back to reality, and the tremors stopped.

She grabbed Glorfindel's arms in a grip so strong that her knuckles turned white. She was staring at the line of blood trickling from his forehead, the way the crimson streak marred the gold of his hairline. Her gaze was transfixed by the sight and an odd amount of anger at herself.

He was hurt.

_He's not supposed to get hurt. _

Evelyn wasn't sure where that thought came from, but it felt right, it felt instinctual.

Glorfindel's lips were still moving, he was saying something and knowing Glorfindel it was probably something terribly sympathetic and kind. Evelyn wasn't listening to him though, she was watching the way the blood at his hairline trickled down and dripped from his face. When she was this close, she could hear his heartbeat- she had never noticed that before, but she could hear it clearly.

Without thinking, she raised one hand to his forehead, swiping her finger across the length of the cut. There was a brief glow and she barely noticed the way Glorfindel blinked his eyes shut. But, when she moved her hand away, there was no trace of the cut ever being there. The action shocked Glorfindel so much that he briefly lost his grip on her.

Evelyn looked longingly at the window. It was close enough for her to slip out, to make a break across the short distance between her and the open sky. She could run, Nightshade would follow her, and she could take to the sky and leave all this behind. She could pretend that the past several minutes had never happened and go back to a life on the run as she hid from orcs and evil wizards and meddling elves. But, she had made a promise, she had made a promise to Glorfindel and she just couldn't bring herself to breaking it.

Plus, she was tired.

Her earlier rage and the little bit of healing that she performed had drained her of energy and thus, instead of making a run for it, she collapsed onto the floor and wrapped her arms around Nightshade's neck. She leaned into the wolf's soft fur and, for a few seconds, pretended that her entire world was nothing but her and her wolf. When she managed to semi-compose herself, she looked up, still leaning into Nightshade. Her eyes did a quick visual scan of the room, checking the damages of her previous rage. Elrond and Erestor had both managed to collect themselves and they were looking at Evelyn with an odd mixture of curiosity, fear, and pity. Evelyn resisted the urge to growl when she saw the pity in their eyes.

She didn't need pity, she needed answers.

Evelyn couldn't run this time. Maybe she wanted to, but judging from the way her powers had just nearly destroyed an elvish building, she had a feeling that this was something that she would have to figure out. Her shoulders were slumped and her skin was paler than it should've been. There was a weary sort of acceptance in her tone as she felt the effects of her earlier exertion. Nevertheless, she fixed Elrond with a challenging gaze.

"So," a sardonic smile played upon her lips. "I know what your future holds and I have the blood of the Valar running through my veins. What does this mean for me and for the war?"

* * *

Yavanna was walking through her halls, idly feeding a few of the songbirds and passing the time until she was supposed to meet with Orome and Varda. Orome had always held a special place in his heart for the Rohirrim and he knew that trouble was befalling the nation of men. Their king was held in the grips of Saruman, once called Curumo, and was being manipulated into aiding Sauron's plot. Varda had deemed Olorin sufficiently healed and gained permission to send him back to Middle Earth as Gandalf the White, taking the place of the now fallen wizard.

The Ringbearer was hidden from even their gaze, and they knew not where the two lost Halflings were. Thus, it seemed likely that Olorin would be sent to Isildur's heir. They needed to work out the details, but Olorin should be powerful enough as The White to reclaim Rohan. If, of course, all went to plan.

Suddenly, a jolt of power, pain, and grief swept across Yavanna's mind. The sensation was overwhelming and the force of it knocked her over. Yavanna dropped the basket that she had been carrying and collapsed to the floor, bent over and ghaping in pain.

_Betrayal_

It was betrayal that she felt sweeping over her. Terrible grief and rage over betrayal.

"My Lady," a voice gasped and a slight form appeared beside her. The Maia's hands flitted about Yavanna as she checked for damages, but the Vala waved her way.

"It's alright, Silwena," she calmed her loyal servant as she felt the sharpness of the pain ebb away slightly. "It is no injury to my form."

The Maia waited patiently beside her, helping her to stand once most of the emotions left her body. Yavanna closed her eyes and said a silent prayer, begging for forgives.

"Is there anything I can do my Lady," Silwena asked kindly.

"No, there is nothing any of us can do," a sad smile crept into her tone. "My heir Evelyn has learned of her heritage. She is unlocking more of her powers."

The Maia, not fully understanding her lady, nodded and crept away silently once she was dismissed.

For a long while, Yavanna remained glued to the spot as she allowed her mind to wander, reaching out tendrils across Middle Earth, trying to find her dear child. But, she still remained blocked. She probably didn't even consciously know that she was doing it, but she had barred herself from being traced or receiving contact with the Valar.

Yavanna could feel the familiar humming of her presence in the Song, but she couldn't pinpoint her location.

A lark landed on her shoulder, interrupting her thoughts and reminding her that she still had a meeting to attend. Thus, she collected her basket from the ground and made her way out her front door. No matter what Evelyn was doing, there was still much work to be done.


	51. Chapter 51

"I think that's enough for now," Glorfindel, who usually preferred a lighthearted air, dipped back into the tone of a Noldor Lord.

Elrond silently acquiesced, and though it was his office, herded Erestor out the door. Then Glorfindel, moving slowly as one does to avoid frighting a skittish creature, crouched down in front of Elenya, for she would always be Elenya to him, and waited. She still had her arms wrapped around her wolf's neck and she seemed utterly exhausted. For a long while they remained like that, her clutching Nightshade like a lifeline whilst he patiently observed. Finally, she turned to look at him with those bright, Valar-lit eyes.

"I never understood what I am... and now I still don't," for a moment, that cold shield that she always held crumbled, and in its wake was naked fear.

"You're my Elenya," Glorfindel whispered, his hands reaching towards the maiden who he had loved since Gondolin. "No matter what, no matter who you think you are or who destiny say you are... you're my Elenya."

With that, he reached into his cloak and pulled out the item that Elrond had handed back to him upon their arrival in Imladris. He felt the weight of it in his hand and rolled his thumb across the cool metal. He then carefully reached forward and gently pulled one of Elenya's arms away from the wolf, depositing the item in her hand. She brought it closer to her face and opened her hand to reveal the hair clip.

"It's... it's the clip you gave me," she was looking at it with a certain amount of wonder in her eyes. "The one I attached to Asfaloth."

"Yes, and for as long as you are willing, it's still yours," he watched the way one of her fingers idly traced the edge of the golden flower. "It's the symbol of my house... I'm the only member left on this side of Middle Earth, but I've still kept it as my symbol..." He hesitated a moment, but he ended dup asking anyway. "May I?"

Elenya paused, but slowly nodded her head.

He moved behind her and carefully gathered the twin braids and brought them together behind her head, fastening them in place with the clip. His hands lingered a bit longer than necessary on her hair, but soon the moment was gone.

"You should hate me," she said plainly. There was no drama, no grandiose announcement, not even a trace of resentment could be heard in her voice. She spoke as one does a plain and simple fact.

"I could never."

"I abducted you, I held you as a prisoner and prevented you from fulfilling your duties."

"You abducted me to prevent me from being killed, and held me captive for the same reason. The Ringbearer made it Imladris and a Fellowship was formed instead. All is well," he couldn't quite believe Elenya's words. He didn't think it would be physically possible for him to ever hate her.

"Sauron seemed hesitant to go after you without my say so... you might have been fine if I refused."

"Or I might have been killed," he shrugged. There was no use dwelling on the past or 'what ifs'.

"Glorfindel, I almost sold you to Saruman! I almost-"

"You didn't," he said as firmly as he could. In his mind, the moment of doubt that he had was a failure on his part. This was his Elenya, his savior who faced a Balrog for him, who saved his life more times than he could count despite being given every reason to not care. "Come!" An idea came to his mind and a smile crossed his face. "I've something that I wish to show you!"

His cheer was back as he lept up and offered a hand to Elenya who eventually accepted it. Off they went, him leading the way as they marched towards a familiar looking shop. Elenya seemed to recognize it as a small smile crossed her face. They greeted Dammorian who seemed a bit surprised to see Glorfindel, but he made no comment as he went to retrieve the weapons. The smith managed to whisper that Glorfindel's "other commission" was not yet done, but he quickly thanked his old friend and guided Elenya out. They made their way to the hidden practice field usually used by the twins, who were on patrol at the moment, and by then Glorfindel could barely contain his excitement.

"So..." he grinned as Elenya tested the blades in her hands. "What do you think?"

The blades were a work of beauty and the deep black patina practically glistened under the noontime sun. She held them with a firm grip, slowly spinning them to get a feel of their weight. There was a shadow haunting Elenya's eyes, a shadow that Glorfindel was all too familiar with. It was the same look he saw in Ecthelion when they learned that Gondolin wouldn't remain hidden for much longer, it was the look in Elrond's eyes after King Gil-galad fell, and it was the look in the eyes of the twins after their mother sailed. It was a conglomeration of grief, sorrow, rage, helplessness, and frustration at battling something that you couldn't fight. Elenya now knew her heritage, she knew who was responsible for both her birth and abandonment.

There was only one thing that Glorfindel had ever known to help in such situations. He took several steps back and drew his own sword, holding it in a ready stance.

"Shall we test them?" He asked, nodding towards the new blades that Elenya was still carefully inspecting.

"Are you sure?" She seemed hesitant.

"Come now, a bit of friendly sparring lifts the spirits," he grinned, one foot creeping backwards to brace himself.

Elenya looked to Nightshade and then shrugged, shedding her cloak and lifting her own two blades. Once she was ready, Glorfindel began counting down from three. At one, he lept forward with a wide swing that Elenya easily dodged. She moved in a graceful pirouette, feet barely touching the ground as he wings lifted her slightly, a flurry of feathers crossed Glorfindel's vision and he was buffeted across the back with one broad wing.

He spun to face his opponent and saw the feral grin light across her expression. He met it with an equally amused smile.

"I'd say that's cheating," he jutted his chin towards her wings.

"Not my fault you left your back open."

"I was busy watching for your blades."

"Always guard your back," she replied before launching towards him this time.

Her twin blades sang as they moved in alternating figure-eights, sliding past each other so rapidly that Glorfindel could barely spot a gap. His heavy blade clanged against them, but he was unable to utilize his usual broad strokes for she danced in and out of his range, every part of her moving at the same time. There was a fierce smile on face as they broke apart and circled each other. Glorfindel feigned left before darting to the right, his sword almost clipping Elenya on her thigh, but she pulled away at the last second.

Now watching her fight with a type of precision and ease that he had yet to see in the past, her heritage seemed obvious. Glorfindel remembered his time around the Valar well, and he could see them in her. She swung her blade with Tulkas' strength, swayed with the grace of Nessa, her wings lifted her into the breeze with the ease of Manwe, the beauty of Varda shone in her eyes, and the grace of Yavanna echoed every time she touched the earth. She was of Ainur stock.

One of Elenya's blades darted forward, the tip almost catching Glorfindel's ear. He parried back with a swing that could've taken off her head if she weren't so quick. He had always been fast with his sword, but Elenya's dual blades seemed to be an extension of her arms she she moved them with a type of precision that he knew was driven from something far more ingrained than practice. There was a grace in her movements that was beyond that of even the Eldar. He knew that he could not out-dance her, but he allowed her to draw in closer and closer, baiting her till she was nearly upon him. Then, he unleashed a flurry of blows, buffeting off her slim blades as both their steels rang out so loud that he was certain the whole valley could hear. Eventually, she escaped from his trap with a trick move using one of her wings to swipe at his feet.

"Getting slow old man?" she teased as one of her blade almost succeeded in clipping his wrist.

"Old? You were in Gondolin too!"

"I was a kid," she shrugged as she leaned away from a cutting swipe. "Also, time apparently moved differently in my world so I wasn't around for the past several thousand years like you."

"Ya well I was dead for a while in the middle."

"Touche."

In the past, Glorfindel would've assumed that a pair of massive wings would prove to be a distinct disadvantage in a fight. They're bulky, would throw off a swordsman's balance, and create a massive target area. But, he now knew that such would be a false assumption. Elenya's wings were not like a burdensome pack dragging her down with weight, they were as much as a part of her as her arms and she used them as she fought. They worked to balance her in positions that would've thrown any other opponent off balance, they added a burst of strength and speed her to her lunges and pulled her back rapidly in her retreats, they allowed her to dance through the air, and even worked as weapons themselves when they buffeted him back.

One particularly clever strike had Elenya laughing and Glorfindel faltered, nearly losing his foot before he regained his focus. He had never seen her such before. There was no trace of the usual somber air that hung around her. For the first time he was able to witness her with no cloak, no mask, blades out, wings in the air, hair unbound, and expression unguarded. The wind tugged at her long hair, creating a crown of inky black as her eyes shone in the midday sun. His first instinct was to compare her to a flower, but that would be wrong. She was nothing so delicate as a blossom, she was every flower in a Spring field blooming at once. She was a force of nature, beautiful and feral and savage.

Dust was flying all around them and Glorfindel knew that if they had been fighting in the main training arena, they would've drawn a crowd by this point in their sparring match. He watched Elenya's singing blades carefully until he saw the slightest opening in her strokes. Taking full advantage of it, he lept forward and jammed his sword between hers, sliding down the blades and locking them together at the hilts. With one mighty twist he retched both her blades away, but the momentum carried his own sword out of his hand. Before he could declare the match a draw, Elenya lunged forward and tackled him.

The pair became a tangle of limbs as they rolled across the dirt. The wrestling match become more play than battle as hair and feathers become so tangled that both of them were coughing whilst glaring at the other indignantly. Eventually, the dust settled around them as Elenya sat triumphantly on his waist, her wings like two massed of muscle caging in either side of Glorfindel's head. For several moments they sat like that, chests heaving as they both caught their breath.

Later, Glorfindel wouldn't be sure what caused him to say what he did. Perhaps it was the view of Elenya hovering above him as she once did in Gondolin that triggered a memory, perhaps it was the will of the Valar, or perhaps it was pure instinct. But without warning he spoke.

"The blades weren't my only promise to you."

"Hmm," she raised an eyebrow, curious, but a hint of caution creeping back into her expression.

"I promised that I would show you my scars."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

He waited a moment and Elenya nodded, swinging herself off him and sitting on the ground, watching him. Nightshade seemed to sense that something was happening as she ambled over from her watching site to sit by Elenya's side. He pushed himself to a sitting position and closed his eyes inhaling deeply in preparation. He searched within himself, sifting through layers of skin until he found those old wounds. Then, like picking at a scab, he dug into them and pulled, unearthing the fiery pain from the night he died.

Glorfindel clenched his jaw in agony as the wounds raced across his skin as they did when they were first formed, the usual lingering ache bursting forth as the cruel whip marks of the Balrog's tail chased their way across his torso, the angry slashes of the beast's claws, and the deep gouge across his stomach all opening up. When he opened his eyes, he locked gazes with Elenya who slowly moved closer towards him. Her eyes flickered to his wounds and they filled with sorrow.

"You saved them all," Glorfindel whispered, his voice slightly hoarse as the burn scars traced down into his throat as well. "So many more would have died, would have suffered and burned if it weren't for you."

"But I didn't save you," her fingers touched one if his scars with a feather-light caress.

"Not that night... but you have so many other times since."

She had off, glassy look in her eyes as she pressed her entire palm to the gash across his stomach. Strangely her touch didn't hurt as it should've. Instead, it felt soothing, like cool water on a burn. Then, her hand began to glow. Glorfindel watched win fascination as white light enveloped his body, Elenya's eyes suddenly lighting up like twin stars as the light became brighter and enveloped both of them. Then he was forced to close his eyes against the glare as his entire body tingled with warmth.

As quickly as it started, it stopped. And, when Glorfindel opened his eyes, the pain and the scars were gone. His hands flew to the site of his old wound, but he found only clean flesh. There was no trace of pain, no lingering ache from his old scar. It was as if they had never happened. Not even the Valar had been able to restore him in such a fashion for the wounds were to his Fea. They should have only been capable of healing in Valinor, that kind of healing was meant to be impossible on this side of the sea.

"Elenya-" he began, but was cut off by an incredulous voice, two identical figures fresh off patrol walking towards them.

"What was that?!"

* * *

Erestor was reviewing the notes that he took during the meeting with Evelyn. Aside from her own story, she gave them a brief overview of the version of events that was supposed to happen according to the story from her world. Most had been on track with the Fellowship of nine individuals departing instead of Glorfindel guiding the Halfling, and much more were events that were destined to occur were on their journey with no outward assistance. The fact that Mithrandir was fated to die and then be re-born was a bit of a shock, but they currently had Yavanna's granddaughter with her pet giant wolf sparring on the training grounds so it really wasn't the strangest thing that he had heard. There was one note however that was quite bizarre.

Erestor found himself walking toward Lord Elrond's office, knocking firmly on the door.

"Come in, Erestor."

"My Lord... there's something strange in what Evelyn told us of what is yet to come."

"Hmmm?"

"This part here," he laid his sheet of notes down on the desk. "The Halflings Merry and Pippin are meant to travel to Fangorn forest where they are to speak with the 'Ents' and Mithrandir is to lead the 'Huorns' into battle in aide of the Rohirrim. Have you ever heard of such creatures?"

"Ents and Hurons..." Elrond looked puzzled. "Are they perhaps tribes of men?"

"If they are, I've never heard of any who go by such a name."

"Neither have I," Elrond moved to his bookshelf, scanning across the tomes. "The name is strange," he opened one of the tomes and flipped through several pages. "It seems to originate from the old language of the Edain in the Vales of Anduin... but those lands are largely occupied by the Rohirrim now."

"Any they're meant to come from the Fangorn forests. Do you know of any races that dwell there?"

"No..."


	52. Chapter 52

velyn froze. Her last encounter with the twins had been... unpleasant to say the least. She knew that they had to have heard about her affairs in Mirkwood and she really wasn't quite ready to face them again. Glorfindel had a hand on her wrist, but his grip was loose enough that she knew she could break free if she wanted to. In fact, she was halfway to breaking away when one of the twins, Elladan, spoke.

"Evelyn!" He waved his hand frantically. "It's great to see you but where in Eru's name have you been and what in Eru's name was that?!"

Elrohir sharply elbowed his brother as they approached, shooting him a glare of annoyance that only siblings were capable of before turning to Evelyn, a slightly calculating look in his eyes.

"He means, it's good to see you again Lady Evelyn... our Ada told us about-" he paused when he realized how much Evelyn stiffened at hearing her name.

"Don't," the words came out sharply. "Please just... Raven is fine." After the realization about her heritage, Evelyn found that she couldn't stand to hear others in Middle Earth call her by that name. It no longer felt like it was hers.

"Oh, of course Raven, just like old times," Elladan's smile was a but forced, but Evelyn couldn't really blame him. "My brother is right though. It's good to see you again, the valley felt lonely without you and I missed watching you disarm Elrohir with your blades."

As Elladan chatted however, Elrohir appeared to be staring strangely at Glorfindel before suddenly gasping. By some weird twin telepathy thing, Elladan abruptly stopped speaking as well, both twins becoming very still.

"Glorfindel," Elrohir began slowly. "Your scars... they're-"

"Gone," he smiled warmly.

"But they're-"

"Marks to your Fea. It-"

"Shouldn't be possible-"

"Not in Middle Earth."

The twins were so rushed in their speech that they ended up cutting each other off and finishing each others' sentences. While it wasn't as jarring as it had been the first time they did it, it was still a bit strange to Evelyn. Glorfindel, having helped raise the twins, seemed to take it all in stride.

"Elenya is the answer to the prophesy... it seems she doesn't answer to the rules."

"How did you-" Elrohir started.

"I don't know... I just," Evelyn honestly wasn't sure what, how, or why she did it... but it just felt right. One moment she was staring at the scars that had been made in her presence, the next, she had her hand on him and everything just felt... right. "I don't know."

It was as honest of an answer as she could give. Beneath the glare of the sun, standing on the compacted dirt of the twins' secret training grounds, everything felt surreal. The birds had fallen silent during when Evelyn was doing... whatever she did to Glorfindel and now they were singing without a care.

"I see Nightshade is well," Elladan attempted to break the tense silence.

He got a growl in response.

Nightshade was perhaps not the most please with the twins, but she had been the one to almost die that last time they were near each other. The wolf, much like her companion, was not the quickest to forgive.

_There are two of them, _Nightshade's thoughts bloomed in Evelyn's mind. _Are you sure I cannot eat at least one?_

_No, _Evelyn replied. She was pretty sure that Nightshade was being sarcastic, but only "pretty sure," it was always hard to tell with the wolf.

_What about an arm... if I didn't get to eat The Pup-Slayer than can I at least have a taste of one of them. _

_No. _

_How about I scare them a little. Maybe a hand? _Evelyn was facing Nightshade as they had their mental spat and thus, she missed the strange looks she was getting from the twins as she stood still, her eyes locked on the wolf's.

"You're not eating either of them," the last comment slipped aloud as she threw her hands up in exasperation.

"Eating either of them?" Elladan parroted back.

"She hasn't forgiven you from the debacle with Legolas and she was asking permission to bite one your hands off," Evelyn couldn't help but roll her eyes. Somehow though, Nightshade always knew how to cheer her up. Sometimes it meant demanding to be pet as a distraction, sometimes it meant leaping on her back to play fight as a way to burn off steam, and sometimes it meant a sarcastic argument to cut the tension.

_Just a nibble. _

"Wait, Nightshade said that she wants to eat us?!" Elladan sounded mildly alarmed.

"Relax, she's joking," Evelyn shot Nightshade a look.

_Mostly. _

"She speaks?" Elrohir asked.

Before it could get more awkward, they were interrupted by Erestor.

"Lord Glorfindel," Erestor stood at the edge of the training field, his back straight and his eyes scanning the other elf, widening slightly before he schooled his features. "Lord Elrond wishes to speak with you immediately... privately," he added when it looked like he was about to drag Evelyn with him.

"I-" Glorfindel began.

"It's fine," Evelyn was dusting herself off at this point, having stood when the twins first approached. "I promise I'll keep Nightshade from eating the twins."

_For now... _

"I'll see you at supper," Glorfindel appeared reluctant to leave her alone.

Evelyn waved him off. If worse came to worse, she and Nightshade could ditch the twins and find a tree that liked them. She didn't need a babysitter.

* * *

Supper was an awkward affair.

Elrond had discussed the revealed information with Glorfindel and his old friend had a few ideas in regards to the "Ents" and "Hurons" that were supposed to help turn the tide of the war. Now, the table was set for six: himself, Glorfindel, Erestor, Evelyn, Elladan, and Elrohir. They were dining in Elrond's private rooms as he had a feeling that this would be a conversation best to be had in private.

The table was set in the room that Elrond usually used to receive visitors. It was cozy with a cheerful fireplace and arching windows that overlooked the orchards and gardens of the valley. The sun was just beginning to set and thus, bright crimson and orange swirled on the horizon. Elrond could tell from the scent of sweat and dust that Evelyn had been training with both Glorfindel and the twins. Just like his sons, she seemed to be much calmer after the mock battles. Elrond hated to break the easy peace that had fallen on the scene, but they still had much work to do.

"Tell me Evelyn- or Raven if you prefer," he couldn't help but notice the way she stiffened at hearing her name. "What do you know of the Ents?"

"The Ents?" She looked confused for a moment, looking towards her wolf who was eating her own meal on the floor by Evelyn's feet.

When Elrond sent the meal request into the kitchen with a side note asking for them to bring a raw leg of deer, the kitchen staff sent a runner up to ask Elrond in person if he actually wanted a raw leg of deer or if the note had been forged by one of his sons in an attempted prank. The fact that his staff was still suspicious that his sons, who were technically old enough to inherit his title and role in Imladris, were playing pranks was a slight concern. But, Elrond had bigger problems at the moment.

"Yes... they are a race we've never heard of."

"You, Elrond, great Loremaster of the Noldor, have never heard of the Ents?"

"I'm afraid not."

Raven looked stunned.

"Would they happen to be creations of Yavanna?" Glorfindel inquired.

Raven nodded and a series of glances passed between Elrond, Glorfindel, and Erestor. Eventually, their silent argument ended with Glorfindel being the seemingly chosen one to deliver the news.

"The Sundering," he said with a single exhale, trying to convey the meaning in that one title. Unfortunately, it seemed that Raven was not familiar with the ancient tale and Glorfindel was forced to explain in detail. "The Sundering was an event that took place before Middle Earth was fully formed. The Valar Yavanna and Aule were betrothed when Aule crafted his children, the dwarves. Despite it being forbidden, Eru, in his mercy, granted them with life, real and independent life as only Eru can grant."

"Yes... I've heard the story," Raven said.

"But that's not the end..." Glorfindel continued. "Yavanna grew afraid that Aule's children, having no love or regard for the land, would destroy her creations. She went to Eru and pled her case, begging that he would grant life to creatures of her own... protectors of her creations."

"Ya, those are the Ents and Hurons."

"Except he did not grant them life," Elrond said when it appeared that Glorfindel was stuck.

"Unlike Aule who sought forgiveness, Yavanna made the mistake of asking permission and she was denied by Eru. She then went to Aule and pleaded with him to change his children, his dwarves, and give them a concern for the creatures of the earth... he refused. Thus, Yavanna broke their betrothal and there came the Sundering."

"_And ancient fault shall be reconciled_," Erestor repeated the ancient prophesy.

The table fell silent. Elrond could practically feel the fury as it rolled off Raven in waves. In truth, he understood. In the version of the story that she knew... it seemed that the Ents and Hurons were formed as guardians who then rose up in the coming war. Instead, she was now learning that she was supposed to somehow fit in their place.

Just as the rage seemed to rise too high, as Elrond's ring began to hum slightly as it did when warning him of magic, Glorfindel moved his hand to cover Raven's. It was a small gesture, one not uncommon between friends. But, it seemed to instantly calm her. Raven's breathing slowed and evened, her shoulders relaxed, and her eyes lingered on one blink. Then, she looked to her wolf, engaging in that sort of silent communication that Elrond had become accustom to observing when she dressed the table.

"If there are no Ents or Hurons and the Rohirrim are left on their own, then the battle of Helm's Deep may be lost." She held up a hand to prevent interruptions. "Lorien, Mirkwood, and Dale will all be attacked as well. The only realm spared from a direct assault and therefore able to spare soldiers is Imladris. So I'll as you, how many warriors are you willing to send?"

"I cannot demand my people fight for a world they are leaving," Elrond spoke carefully.

He saw the way Raven's mouth opened, about to protest, when she was cut off my Glorfindel.

"I can think of three score who would volunteer, another four who would march if I asked them to."

Raven nodded her head and Elrond really couldn't think of a protest to that. It seemed settled, Glorfindel and the twins would work to rouse what warriors they could to march to Helm's Deep. Hopefully they would arrive in time to be of aid in the battle.

"And where are you going?" Glorfindel asked Raven who seemed to have been avoiding the topic of her plans.

"To Isengard," she replied.

"Then I'm coming with you," Glorfindel said.

"No," Evelyn slammed her fist on the table, creating a shockwave that shook the room. It was obviously unintentional as she seemed just as surprised as everyone else. She slowly withdrew her hand and shook her head, her voice softer but no less firm. "Absolutely not. Saruman _wants _you. There's no way you're getting anywhere near him."

"I can't let you go alone."

"I will be flying and Nightshade runs faster than any horse," she spoke with a certain amount of finality in her tone, a razor sharp edge used only by those who knew that the argument was already won. "If you try to follow you'll be wasting your time and help no one. Gather an army and march on Helm's Deep. After the battle is won I'll meet you in Minas Tirith. Tomorrow, Nightshade and I make our way to Isengard."

"And what do you plan on doing?"

"I have a score to settle with the wizard."

* * *

Elrond's sleep was troubled. His dreams flew past, flashes, images of fates for the future. Each was more grim than the last.

There was the scene of a great battle, armies of men and elves fought side by side as they had once in the Last Alliance. But, the scene was set at a pair of great black gates. Standing atop one was Glorfindel. The ancient Lord was dressed in his finest armor, smoke blacking the silver and yet his golden, unbound hair still shone. His blade was like a rive of silver as it swiped through the air, striking at the foul mounts of the Nazgul.

Then, from behind him, came another of the beasts.

Elrond felt his breath catch in his throat as he tried to scream a warning as his old friend, but it was too late. The creature came from behind and latched its claws into the golden warrior, lifting him into the air.

Glorfindel released a scream of pain as he dropped his sword, blood running down his back where the creature's claws had cleaved their path. The beast was rising into the air, far too high for even the finest elvish archers to even dream of hitting. Then, just as the creature seemed to be high enough to kiss the clouds, it dropped Glorfindel.

It was like time itself slowed as the speck of shining silver and gold fell, tumbling down faster and faster until he hit the earth so hard, a crater formed as one does when a star falls from the heavens.

No creature, not even and elf born in Valinor, could survive such a fall.

There was a flash and the scene changed.

It was an image wouldn't leave him, a dream that he had had many times before. It was Imladris.

**_Burning_**

Fire and smoke surrounded him as he ran through his precious halls, his home that he opened up for anyone who came in peace. His refuge where survivors of the Last Alliance lived together, finally finding peace amongst the aftermath of centuries of war. The marble of Imladris was blackened with smoke, tapestries were set alight, elves were running, screaming, crying out in pain and fear.

**_Orks _**

**_Uruk-hai_**

Foul beasts surged all around as they slaughtered his kin. Elrond watched, helpless as everything around him burned, black and red blood splattering all around.

Then, in the midst of the smoke was Raven- Evelyn.

She wore blackened armor, her swords were dripping with viscous fluid, and her wolf was at her heels. The smoke and chaos surged around her as if it were a part of her.

He awoke with a gasp.

For several moments he remained still, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself. He looked out the window towards the sky, looking at the stars. He searched for his father among them and sent a silent prayer.

_Please... do not allow this to come to pass. _


	53. Chapter 53

When Evelyn finally arrived at her room she was exhausted. She and Nightshade practically collapsed into the bed and slept, waking with the first rays of dawn as they oft were inclined to. She stood and readied herself for the journey ahead, inspecting her newly forged weapons and carefully testing the sharpness of every blade. Beside her, Nightshade sat and watched in silent companionship as Evelyn re-checked the packs of supplies that she had pilfered from the kitchens the night before. Evelyn took her old blades and left them on the pillow, reminding herself that there was every chance that this would be the last she ever saw of the little circular room.

She was ready to go.

Evelyn stood and walked to the door when Nightshade hummed softly.

_The Golden-one left something outside. I can hear him coming. _

Evelyn too, knew that Glorfindel was approaching. She could feel that strange flutter deep beneath her breastbone as she always did whenever Glorfindel was near. She wasn't sure when it started to occur, but it made it impossible for her to not notice when Glorfindel approached. Evelyn swung her packs over her shoulder and braced herself.

She opened the door.

There, fussing slightly over a large, cloth-covered object was Glorfindel who straightened when they appeared.

"Elenya, Nightshade," he tipped his head in acknowledgment and Nightshade hummed in approval.

It didn't escape Evelyn's mind that Glorfindel was the only one save herself who ever acknowledged Nightshade. _Perhaps that's why Nightshade seems to like him, _a small voice in the back of Evelyn's mind thought.

"I-" Glorfindel looked suddenly nervous. "I have a gift for you... to help you on your way."

Without further ado, he pulled on the cloth and revealed two sets of beautiful armor. They were smokey black, and tailored perfectly; one to fit Evelyn, one to fit Nightshade. Evelyn reached out a hand, brushing lightly over the metal. It was polished until gleaming, and yet it didn't reflect light as normal armor would. Instead, it was like looking in smoke rising from a campfire at night, it was a blackness that was deep and encompassing with the barest hint of a light. She ran her fingers gently along the smooth curves, feeling the strength of the metal and the fine, gleaming points of the sharpened edges.

"...took a little longer than I expected so it wasn't ready yesterday..." Evelyn belatedly noticed that Glorfindel was still speaking, his words coming out in a jumble as he seemed to be half rambling. There was a high chance that her silence was unnerving him... she had learned that many found it off-putting as she likely would have a good several years ago. "But anyway... it's elvish steel and mithril so it's incredibly light. It shouldn't affect your flying."

Evelyn decided to test that last statement as she lifted the armor from the wooden mannequin. To her surprise, it couldn't have been more than a few pounds. If it weren't for the fact that she had felt it herself and that she was in Middle Earth, she would've assumed it to be made of plastic.

"May I?" Glorfindel asked, holding out his hands as he asked for permission.

Evelyn nodded and he assisted her in buckling the armor on. First were the greaves, then the breastplate and pauldron. Finally, he secured the wing pieces. They contoured perfectly with the curves of her wings and each joint along the ridge collapsed nicely to allow her to fold her wings on her back as she usually did. The mithril mail felt as light and flexible as silk but she knew that it would protect her better than any steel. She then turned to Nightshade, and once again Glorfindel silently assisted her in fastening the armor onto the wolf.

When Evelyn stood, she found that she could still move easily as she stretched and flexed. She then set abut strapping all her weapons back onto herself and the dwarves blade and packs onto Nightshade. When she finished, she looked to Glorfindel.

"Thank you..." she was at a loss, but the blinding smile that Glorfindel gave her made that little flutter deep in her chest palpitate.

"I- I understand why you feel you have to do this alone..." he hesitated a moment, obviously pained by his words. "But... please... be careful."

Evelyn paused a moment. Part of her didn't believe that Glorfindel would listen and stay away. If he was anything, he was persistent, and Evelyn really wasn't sure exactly what she thought she could do to take down Saruman without the help of the ents. If she failed and if Isengard still stood, then Glorfindel might just walk straight into a trap.

"I'll make a deal with you," it was the only thing she could think of that might successfully keep him away from the evil wizard. "If you swear to stay away from Isengard... both before and after Helm's Deep, then I swear that I will do all that I can to meet you in Minas Tirith."

There was a long paused, then Glorfindel agreed.

Evelyn released an exhale and hesitated for a slight moment. She didn't know how to say goodbye, so she didn't. One moment she was staring into the sad and hopeful eyes of the elf, and the next, she had turned on her heels and was walking away. She could hear the slight clicking of Nightshade's nails on the stone behind her and she could sense Glorfindel's presence as he silently followed.

They reached the courtyard and, without looking back, Evelyn spread her wings and took to the skies. Below her, Nightshade was sprinting with long strides, covering the ground at a rate that would put any stallion to shame. The wind whipped through Evelyn's hair as the rising sun warmed her back. Her newly acquired armor was light and flexible, moving with her as she rode updrafts and sweeping currents of air. As she flew, Evelyn clenched her eyes tightly, refusing to look down at the lone figure standing at the marble arches below. She ignored the little flutter in her chest as it grew dimmer the further she went.

_We'll see him again, _she told Nightshade.

The wolf released a long howl in response.

* * *

Saruman surveyed the depths of his fortresss. Around the ring of his tower were crates dug deep into the earth, the home of his underground breeding grounds and weapons smithies. The land gaped open like the maw of a great best ready to consume any who stood in his way.

The forges of Isengard were alight with burning orange as the flames were fed by ancient trees felled each day by his growing army. Every hour was filled with new creatures being born, new helms and weapons forged to strengthen his ranks. He was proud of his creations, his Fighting Uruk-hai, beings bred of men and Uruks. They were stronger, smarter, and faster than their predecessors whilst holding the ability to move unhindered under the sun. He, Saruman the Great, managed to do what Sauron and Melkor failed time and time again.

Sauron, the puppet of Melkor, was so bent on loyalty to his old master that he never sought to change, to improve the work of his predecessor. He was still bent on his little ring that he had once allowed through arrogance to fall into the hands of a mere man. It was pitiful.

Now, Sauron's arrogance threatened to hold Saruman back. The wizard had had the perfect plan. If breeding Uruk-hai with men created the astounding beasts that it did, then breeding them with elves would surly create the greatest army imaginable. And Saruman tried, he tried many times. It was not easy to acquire test subjects, but he did manage to obtain a few elves who had strayed too far from the boarders of Lorien. Sadly though, the only ones he ever acquired where pitiful Silvans. They were elves of the trees and Middle Earth, they were lesser than their kin whose ancestors had made the Great Journey, never touched Aman. Their bodies couldn't handle the strain and thus they died beneath his blades.

He knew one that would be able to, he knew one that would survive and give him the army he wanted.

_Glorfindel._

The legendary re-born Balrog Slayer.

Saruman was well acquainted the the curious elven lord. Glorfindel, or Laurefindele as he had been known in Aman, was among the party greeting Saruman and the other Istari when they first arrived on their ship. Saruman had watched the warrior through the years, always present whenever the White Council met. He knew that the Valar had not sent him back entirely as his original form, they had invested in him some form of extra power.

_He would be perfect_.

But no, Sauron saw the claim that the little Valar-born girl had placed and decided to bargain with her- as if she could ever prove a threat. Sauron ignored the advice of him, Saruman the Wise, and foolishly pursued this girl's favor.

_No matter though_.

His experiments of elves and Uruk-hai may have failed, but he still commanded an army bearing his White Hand. He still had his forges turning out weapons and armor faster than any smiths of men could possibly compete with. He alone, unlike Sauron who had failed twice before, could truly control a Ring of Power. He would first claim the One, then take Narya, which should have been his, from Olorin. With that power he could march on Lorien and claim Nenya and invade Imladris for Vilya.

_I will do what no others have done before... I will rule over all._

* * *

The forest of Fangorn had long stood silent. Its trees were ancient, planted in the days before they spread through seeds and instead were each granted life by their creator, the Vala Yavanna. Those trees had come into being in the time when the Great Plains of Rohan were a forest so thick that the tree canopy served as a highway from the Sea of Ruhn to Belegaer.

For many years, as forest were razed and trees were cleared across Middle Earth, Fangorn remained untouched. Even when Saruman, the arrogant Istari who turned from his order in search of power, only dared to clear the trees along the edges. They said that dark beasts roamed Fangorn, that the water was strange and the creatures who drank it grew beyond what was deemed natural.

No one knew if such was true, for no one dared to enter Fangorn's depths. Well... no one willingly that is.

The two small figures, wrists still red from rope burns, were running for their lives. They had been held captive by foul orcs and had been under the impression that they were very close to ending up on the menu for dinner. Then, there was an attack. Men on horseback came from nowhere, swords gleaming in the pale moonlight as they set upon the host of orcs. The two figures ran in the only direction that seemed likely to save their lives- Fangorn forest.

And that was how they ended up in the eerie place. Merry and Pippin, two Hobbits of the Shire who by all rights had no illusions of grandeur or ambition for conquest and power, ended up in the place that men thought of as cursed and elves as forbidden. The ancient trees grew thick around them, twisted and gnarled branches leaned over and threatened to knock foreheads whilst thick roots attempted to trip them as they stumbled to safety.

"Are we being followed?! Did we loose them?" Pippin was panicked. He had never felt so scared in his life as he and Merry collapsed against a thick tree trunk.

He tried to listen over the sound of his rabbiting heart for any sign of their pursuers. He heard an owl screeching and insects chirping all around.

"I- I think-" Merry began but was cut off by the distinct sound of footsteps. "Run!" Merry screamed, all chances of stealth gone as they picked a direction at random and sprinted as fast as their legs could carry them.

They ran: leaping over roots and stone, ducking beneath branches, stumbling and helping each other up in turn. But, nothing seemed to work. They could hear the steps of their pursuers close behind, they could smell his rancid stench. The orcs screeched in fury over loosing their targets. They were out for blood and no longer cared about the orders of their Master.

"The trees!" Merry yelled. "Climb a tree!"

And with that, Pippin was scrambling up the nearest trunk. Despite his panic and the trembling in his limbs, his climb was surprisingly steady. He knew how to do this, he had climbed trees many times when he was a faunt and he channeled every hour spent in the idyllic Shire as he pulled himself up the branches. He finally reached a height where he felt safe and he smiled in triumph, turning to the search for his cousin.

Merry wasn't as fast as him and had cleared about half the distance up the trunk. It was at that moment that Merry made the mistake of looking down and Pippin was stuck in place, watching in horror as an orc lept upwards, grasping Merry by his ankle and yanking him to the ground.

"Merry!" He cried in horror as the Hobbit bravely attempted to strike the orc with his feet.

The blow only had the effect of making the creature angrier as the rest of the group, some twenty orcs caught up. The foul creature standing above Merry licked the edge of his filthy blade, grinning with a smile that was all hunger as it loomed over Pippins closest friend.

He was helpless, there was nothing he could do. He was about to watch Merry slaughtered and eaten by orcs after surviving so long of their journey. He felt like a coward, but he was too afraid.

Pippin clenched his eyes shut, gripping the tree so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He was waiting for the scream, for the dying shriek of his friend as he was sliced by an orc.

It never came.

**_Whoosh. Thud. _**

Pippin opened his eyes and watched as the orc that had been ready to gut Merry went cross eyed, looking at the long, black arrow that protruded from his forehead. Everyone, the Hobbits and orcs alike, froze as the orc in question swayed slightly before collapsing in a heap.

Then it was chaos.


	54. Chapter 54

Fangorn Forest was beautiful.

Evelyn could hardly believe that it was a real place. The moment she stepped beneath the canopy, she could hear the trees whispering all around her. They were happy to see her, they greeted her as an old friend. She could feel the difference in them, how the great oaks had grown not from seeds but from the hands of Yavanna herself. Perhaps that's why they loved her so much, they could sense the blood of their creator flowing through her veins.

_**Danger**_

**_Black Beasts_**

**_Murderers_**

**_Chasing_**

The whispers turned harsh and Evelyn could sense the anger and rage of the trees. Someone else had invaded their home, someone not welcome.

_"I can smell them," _Nightshade growled, her nose in the air.

_**Black Beasts **_

_**Hurry **_

_**Help **_

With the cries of the trees all around, Evelyn chased Nightshade who had taken off like a rocket. They picked up speed as they went, branches parting in front of them to ease their way and guide them towards their goal. As they got closer, Evelyn could hear them- she could _smell _them.

"Orcs!" She snarled aloud as Nightshade put her head down and raced faster.

When the monsters were finally within sight it took less than a second for Evelyn to figure out what was going on. A small band of six orcs were chasing two small figures. One had managed to climb out of reach in a tree, but the other was about to be crushed by one of the disgusting creatures.

Without pausing in stride Evelyn pulled her bow from her shoulder and fired an arrow at the orc hovering over the small thing. An expression of shock crossed its face before it swayed and collapsed. The rest of its brethren screamed in fury, charging forward only to be waylaid by Nightshade who launched herself from the underbrush like she was on a spring. The quarters were too close for arrows to be effective so Evelyn withdrew her two new blades; the black patina glistened under the filter sunlight as she twisted in her deadly dance.

Black blood gushed from precise strikes at arteries as one by one the band of orcs fell. A cry from one of the nearby trees distracted Evelyn enough for one orc to manage a swipe at her side, but between the creature's messy technique, rusted blade, and Evleyn's elvish armor there wasn't even a scratch.

All too soon, the orcs were dead. The woods became silent and still once more.

With the threat gone, Evelyn turned to look at the two figures who she had rescued. They were short and almost childlike in appearance. They both had mops of curly hair, their feet were rather large...

_Oh... short, curly hair, large feet... Fangorn Forest... _

"Merry and Pippin I presume?" She already knew the answer but half hoped that she was wrong.

"Y-yes..." the Hobbit who had been attacked stuttered slightly as he spoke. "Th-thank you Miss..."

"...Raven, you may call me Raven," she said after a slight pause. She still wasn't ready to use her real name.

"How do you-"

"It's a long story," she said with an exhale as the other Hobbit climbed down from the nearby tree.

It had been a long several weeks flying for Fangorn and after the battle she was exhausted. Thus, she jerked her head to Nightshade who immediately began leading the way. Evelyn followed and gestured for the Hobbits to follow her.

"Miss Raven... we should like to-"

"I don't plan on having this talk surrounded by orc carcasses. We need to set up camp. I wouldn't suggest the two of you staying in these woods by yourself so you're welcome to join Nightshade and me."

"Is your wolf going to eat us?" The one who Evelyn was _pretty _sure had to be Pippin asked.

"Are you going to try to slit my throat tonight?" She asked. Apparently the dry sharpness to her tone was mistaken for sincerity by the frightened Hobbits.

"N-no Miss! Absolutely not! We-we're very _very _grateful for you killing those orcs and-"

"If you're not planning on harming either of us then Nightshade won't hurt you. Relax."

She then turned back to walking and listened to the sounds of scurrying footsteps behind her. Eventually they came upon a small clearing that Nightshade hand found and Evelyn immediately began setting up camp. She cleared a space for a fire, laid out her bedroll, and began digging through her provisions. She figured that for the night, lembas would do. She could go foraging for more variety when she was no longer exhausted.

Once the fire was going and the nervous Hobbits were nibbling on a square of lembas each, Evelyn took to her swords. They were certainly made of a fine steel and experienced no damage were however caked with blood that Evelyn was careful to wipe off. She ran her rag across he edges of the blade, removing all traces of orc blood. Once they were clean she removed her and Nightshade's armor, laying them out on a blanket. The Ents might not exist in this version of Middle Earth, but the trees of Fangor were still more alive than any she had met so far. If there was a threat, they would warn her.

Eventually, Evelyn ran out of tasks to do and thus she was left to sit by the fire and eat her lembas. The Hobbits were watching her, half in fear and half in awe. She knew they were curious. She could practically see the questions in their head trying to leap from their mouths.

Resigning herself to their inquiries, Evelyn sighed and began the conversation.

"I know who you are as I am well aware of the Fellowship of the Ring. I have just come from Imladris. I know Aragorn and I am a... friend of Gimli's father, Gloin."

"So you know about our quest?!" Pippin asked in excitement.

"Indeed... I'm here because at the edge of this forest lies Saruman's tower. I'm here to bring it down."

"H-how?" Merry asked with his eyes wide.

"...I'm not sure yet. For now, eat. I need to rest."

With those words she made her way back over to her bedroll and laid down. Nightshade quickly took her place curled up next to her. As usual, Evelyn kept one hand on her blades as she listened to the soft music of the trees whispering goodnight.

"Miss Raven," a hesitant voice which Evelyn was pretty sure came from Merry inquired.

"...yes."

"Could- do you think we could stick with you?"

"It's just we really don't want to run into any more orcs and you seem pretty hand with those blades-"

"Yes. Now sleep. If there is danger I'll know."

Something funny fluttered in Evelyns chest as she listened to the Hobbits shuffle about gettin ready for sleep. There had been something so open and honest in their question. They didn't care that she had wings, that she wielded blades with deadly precisions, or that she kept company with a wolf. They saw her rescue them and they... trusted her. Just like that... so simply and so innocently.

They reminded her of what she once was.

* * *

"This is a terrible idea."

"Keep your voice down," Elladan whispered to his twin. "Are you trying to get us caught?"

The two sons of Elrond were crouched low over Elrohir's bed as they packed their bags. There was very little light as neither dared to light a candle, thus they made do with the scarce glow of the moon and stars. They were in Elrohir's room as Elladan had already packed his things before barging into his brother's room and demanding that he pack as well.

"Right now... I think getting caught might be the most sensible thing."

"Oh quit your whining," Elladan began rifling through his brother's things as Elrohir was apparently taking too long to pack. "This was your idea."

"It absolutely wasn't," he shot back.

"You're the one who said that you had a 'bad feeling' about Glorfindel going," Elladan was trying to find his brother's spare whetstone but Elrohir's chest was proof that he was an absolute hoarder.

"Yes... a bad feeling," it was true, Elrohir had several dreams over the past few days that involved Glorfindel falling from a great height. He wasn't sure if it was a metaphor or a vision of the future, but they left his with a racing heart and a heavy ache each time. "But that doesn't mean that I wanted to sneak out at night and join the company of soldiers that he's leading."

"But you had one of your visions-"

"I never said it was a vision," Elrohir corrected, but Elladan was undeterred.

"And Ada always tells us to trust our instincts and have faith in messages that the Valar send us-"

"There's no way to know that the Valar sent that image."

"So really," Elladan tied the top of his brother's rucksack and shoved it into his arms. "This is Ada's orders."

Elrohir paused, his still sightly sleepy brain taking a moment to catch up.

"That's some of the most twisted logic I've seen you come up with... and I've seen you try to explain to Erestor why the horse you led to the library was supposed to be in there."

"Okay, then how about this," despite Elrohir's verbal protests, Elladan was already strapping armor onto his brother as he spoke. "If you think something's up with Glorfindel... then that means he _needs _our help. Also, with what Raven said about the battle... Estel needs our help too. Are you really planning on leaving our little brother to face the wrath of Sauron himself without us?"

"You know that I'm coming," Elrohir glared as he finished buckling on his chest plate. "I'm just making my protests to this stupid idea abundantly clear. You remember how anxious Ada was the last time we slipped out."

"But that time he though that Glorfindel was dead. This time he'll know that we're with him... it'll be fine."

The sky was still dark as they were a few hours off from dawn, but as soon as the sun showed its face, Glorfindel would be departing from Imladris with a company of soldiers who volunteered to fight for Middle Earth. Elrohir knew that there would be more present than Glorfindel expected... the elves of Imladris would always come when the Balrog Slayer called.

"Okay... I'm ready." Elrohir was fully outfitted for both war and travel, armor and cloak identical to his brother's.

"The window?"

"The window."

Elladan, as always, went first. He threw his rucksack over his shoulder and gripped the wooden trellis tight. One hand over the other, he scaled the rickety structure structure with ease. When he landed lightly on his feet, the cool evening grass softening his landing, he called up to his brother who followed.

They had left a note, scrawled onto a piece of parchment and left on Elladan's desk explaining where they went and why. They knew that their father would be upset with them running off to battle more orcs, but this was no longer just a quest for vengeance. Instead, it was a mission to help their friend, their mentor, and their brother. It was something they had to do.

The twins kept themselves close to the building walls, slinking low under the cover of dark they made their way to the stables. They were careful to open the old doors without allowing them to creak, slipping inside and reaching for their saddles. When they got to the tack storage however, they were surprised to see their gear missing.

"You're late."

Both twins turned around at and almost comical speed as they came face to face with their father who was holding the reins to both their steeds. The horses were groomed to perfection and fully tacked, ready for war.

"Ada!" Elladan was the first to recover. "Elrohir and I were going for... a midnight ride. You see we were feeling a bit restless-"

"And you just happened to decide on going for a ride at the time when Glorfindel said to meet him in the courtyard if any wish to go with him to fight?"

"Uh-"

"We're sorry," Elrohir elbowed his brother, rolling his eyes at his absolutely failed attempts at a cover. "We-"

"I know," Elrond place one hand on each of his sons' shoulders. "I know you're sorry and I know that you two have to do this... but I'm still disappointed in you both. You should've come to me before slipping into the night like thieves."

"We thought-"

"You thought that I wouldn't approve," he shook his head. "You boys have the spirit for war no matter how much I wish you didn't. But, you are my sons and just like I understand that your sister's path lies with Estel in the world of Man, I know that yours lie with this war. I cannot and will not change that about you."

"We love you, Ada," both enveloped their father in a hug. For several moments they stayed like that, holding each other close before their father eventually pulled away.

"Go," he handed them the reins to their horses. "Join the company. There are a few things that I still must see to before I send you all off. May the stars light your way."

"May the stars light your way," they both pressed a palm against their chest and bowed low before turning to exit the stables, their saddle bags packed with extra healing supplies.

"And Elladan, Elrohir," the twins turned to look at their father. "Bring each other back safe."

They nodded and together made their way to the courtyard. Middle Earth was their home, Estel was their brother, and Glorfindel and Raven were their friends. They would fight to save them all.


	55. Chapter 55

Aragorn walked among the defenders of Helm's Deep. He had done this many times before, walking amongst his men on the eave of battle... but never like this. This time, instead of encouraging pats on the back and cheerful jibes about what they looked forward to at home, he was teaching old men how to draw a bow and young boys how to hold a blade. The only defenders left in Helm's Deep where the old, the young, and a few shield-maidens scattered about. Aragorn had never before prepared for a battle that he was so certain that he would loose.

From the corner of his eye, Aragorn spotted his companions, Legolas and Gimli. The dwarf was busy adjusting his mail tunic whilst Legolas was counting his arrows for what Aragorn knew was close to the fifth time. The dust and cobwebs of Helm's Deep revealed a fortress that had seen its fair share of years and battles. Torches cast flickering light on the ominous expression of the people of Rohan. Theoden King stood in another corner, newly freed from Saruman's influence, the King of Rohan looked grim. He too knew where this battle was going.

Gandalf, newly revealed as Gandalf the White, was gone. After announcing himself to the three hunters and guiding them to Rohan, he disappeared once more... promising to return with the Riders of Rohan who left with Eomer. But Aragorn knew that even if he, by some miracle, managed to find and retrieve Eomer's company in time... there was a high chance that it would be too late. The armies of Mordor and Isenguard were strong. The chances of this small band defeating them were next to none.

_"Estel," _Legolas hissed in his native tongue. _"We are preparing farmers and boys to battle an army of orcs... 300 against 10,000."_

_"We have a greater hope here than in Edoras," _he replied. They were getting some strange glances from those around them, but Aragorn was confident that none spoke Sindarin.

_"There is no hope."_

_"There is always-"_

_"Do not pretend to be Mithrandir. They cannot win this fight. They will all die!"_

"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn shouted, only realizing after the words had left his mouth that he spoke in Common. Aragorn paused, looking at the men and boys around him. He turned and walked away, he needed a moment of quiet on his own.

For in truth, Legolas was right. There was no hope of these men winning this battle. He was leading them to their doom just as he led the company. When they reunited with Gandalf, the wizard had no news of Merry and Pippin, only that they were beyond his ability to see. In all likelihood, they were dead, their should passed on to whatever realm Hobbits moved on to. Gimli as a dwarf would become one with the stone and fall into a deep slumber until his creator awoke them again. Legolas, the only immortal amongst the throngs of men would be sent to Mandos' Halls, he would rest and recover until his time came to be reembodied. Aragorn then thought of his own mortal self. Though he had a hint of elvish blood in his veins, he was a man just as those surrounding him. He would die and his soul would move to whoever those who held Eru's Gift went. One hand went to the pendent around his neck as he thought of Arwen who he would never see again. Hopefully, when news of his death reached her she would travel to the Undying Lands with the rest of her kin. She wouldn't have to give up her immortality and would be able to live with her family.

After some time, Legolas found him and apologized. The pair embraced as there was no reason for him to regret his words for they were true. Aragorn was at least comforted by the knowledge that he was to march to his death alongside his oldest friend when they were interrupted by the calling of a horn. Aragorn froze... he knew that horn.

He and Legolas raced through Helm's Deep, calling for Theoden King to join them as the ordered for the gates to be opened. There, marching towards them in familiar robes of deep blue, was an army of elves. Aragorn watched in amazement as he recognized the three unhooded figures who rode at the head of the party. With a crown of golden hair, a rarely worn circlet, and silver armor adorned with the emblem of a golden flower at the helm of the party was Glorfindel the Balrog slayer in all his battle glory. Flanking him on either side were the identical, dark-haired forms of the twins who Aragorn had long called his brothers.

A wave of hope surged through Aragorn as, without a though, he launched himself at Glorfindel and embraced him in a hug. As soon as he released his mentor he threw himself at his brothers who whispered into his ear.

"You didn't really think that we'd let you have all the fun killing orcs did you?"

"I come bearing a message from my Lord Elrond of Rivendell," Glorfindel announced to Theoden who had just arrived at the scene. "The memory of elves is long and we still recall the days when Elves and Men stood side by side, fighting and dying together. We have not forgotten these days and though we are leaving these shores, we are proud to stand alongside you once more."

"You are most welcome here," Theoden King bowed deeply in gratitude.

With that formality done, Glorfindel smoothly transitioned into what he did best, leading his soldiers.

"Tirron," Glorfindel called to an elf bearing a bow. Aragorn recognized him for he had been his archery tutor many years ago. "Organize the archers of the first battlements. Legolas, will you take charge of the archers on the second battlements?"

"Or course," the younger elf bowed and embraced Aragorn once more. There was a new spark of hope in his eyes for it was impossible to not find optimism in the presence of the ancient hero. "With me," he called to a group of elves who broke off to follow the Mirkwood Prince.

"You two," Glorfindel pointed at the twins. "I trust you can take charge of the wall defenses?" The pair nodded their heads. "Good," he narrowed his eyes slightly. "And _don't _die... your father will kill me."

The duo nodded their heads, a hint of a smirk before they began shouting orders to the soldiers who moved quickly and fluidly to obey. Aragorn felt a surge of pride as he watched the soldiers, many of whom had helped to raise and train him, take their slot alongside the men of Rohan.

"And you," Glorfindel took another step forward, his finger prodding Aragorn's chest. "Don't die... Arwen will _really_ kill me."

Aragorn threw his head back and laughed, tossing one arm around the Elf's shoulders.

"No," he replied, a smile tugging at his lips. "I don't think I will be dying this night."

Maybe... just maybe, the defenders of Helm's Deep stood a chance.

* * *

_**Thunk**_

Two Hobbits looked up in alarm as a slim dagger flew past their heads and embedded itself in a tree trunk behind them. Evelyn had just returned to the campsite that she had set up for the odd bunch from scouting out Isenguard. It was her third day of scanning the perimeter and so far, she had had no luck in finding any chink in Sauron's defenses that would allow her to attack without the aide of an army.

She stormed over to the tree, cursing Yavanna, the Valar, Eru, and whatever other deities decided that she should be dropped into this miserable world to complete a seemingly impossible task. She yanked her blade back out of the tree and rubbed the bark, muttering an apology for attacking it so. Nightshade emerged from behind another tree and nuzzled Evelyn gently, prodding her to sit down.

"No luck eh?" Pippin asked, only to be elbowed sharply by Merry.

"No luck indeed," Evelyn grunted.

It had become clear after a day that Gandalf the White wasn't planning on miraculously showing up and Evelyn had understood enough about the Hobbits to quickly realize that they would die if she left them in Fangorn forest. Thus, she ended up with two very confused but surprisingly pleasant Hobbits tagging along as she established a base camp that was far enough away from Isenguard to be safe, but close enough to case out the place. In the time between flights over Saruman's tower, Evelyn had spent a good amount of time with the two Hobbits and found them to be shockingly pleasant company. They were unfailingly cheerful, generous, and kind without any prompting. They had no real reason to trust Evelyn and Nightshade, yet they did and did so unwavering. For all that is said about hard won trust, when given so freely and generously, it made Evelyn all the more determined to treasure it.

"Well how did we take down Saruman's tower in your books?" Merry asked.

Evelyn had ended up explaining quite a bit to them over the past several days. It was nearly impossible to not as the Hobbits were incredibly curious and continuously asked questions.

"With a race of creatures that don't exist," Evelyn was staring at a particularly large tree, a note of contemplation in her tone.

"Well... I think you need an army to take that down," Pippin replied.

"Indeed..."

Evelyn thought back to what Elrond said to her on her last night in Imladris. The Lord had walked her back to her chambers and explained a rather absurd theory that Evelyn was finally becoming desperate enough to think on.

_"I believe, Evelyn," Elrond spoke in a measured tone. "That there is more to you powers than you think."_

_"How so?" _

_"You have something rare... so rare that it is entirely new and unique..." Elrond paused, looking out the window to watch the stars glittering like jewels set high in the sky. "You have the blood and powers of the Valar, the crafters of Middle Earth, running though your veins... but you also have mortal blood. You are a Child of Man and therefore you bear Eru's Gift."_

_"I can die?" Evelyn asked bluntly, her eyebrows raised. _

_"Eru's Gift is beyond just the ability to die... it's unique. No being of power has ever held Eru's Gift and I think the reason why is because it gives you abilities beyond the Valar."_

_Evelyn snorted, but Elrond continued. _

_"Your wolf Nightshade... she not only understands you, but she speaks to you?"_

_"Yes," Evelyn looked down to Nightshade who was following the conversation with suspicion. _

_"Yet she doesn't always obey you? She can joke and deceive, she has her own independent mind."_

_"Of course."_

_"Evelyn," Elrond stopped walking again and turned around to look into Evelyn's eyes. "Nightshade is not a normal wolf. She is larger, stronger, faster, and far far more intelligent. Most importantly though... she has independent thought. She is a creature crafted by your powers to create."_

_"That's..." the word impossible died in Evelyn's lips as she thought about how Nightshade had slowly grown more and more conscious over the years they spent together. _

_"Evelyn of Yavanna... I believe you can create the Ents."_

The idea was absurd. Her magic was uncontrollable, like a wild wave that refused to be tamed. They also exhausted her beyond belief, a simple blast of light was enough to make her knees grow weak.

And yet, that absurd idea was her only hope.

She couldn't win this battle without an army of some sort. Even if she could only create a few Ents it would tip the scales in her favor. She _needed _to do this... she just wasn't sure if she would be able to.

_What do you think? _She asked Nightshade.

The wolf's reply was the mental equivalent to a shrug.

Sighing deeply, Evelyn placed two hands on the tree. As usual when wielding her magic, she dug down deep into a well within herself, closing her eyes in concentration she focused on everything she despised. She thought about that dark cell in the depths of Mirkwood, the deep pain when she watched an arrow pierce Nightshade's heart, the sting of betray upon finding out about her grandmother, and the burning hatred she held for Saruman for trying to take what was her- _what's mine... what? _

She pushed way that intrusive thought and went back to thinking about the pain and rage and hatred swirling inside her. She felt more than saw the white glow of light that bathed her as she pulled all the energy out of her body. Her face twisted into a grimace through a combination of the memories and the physical exertion of wielding her magic as she gave one final shove.

Evelyn collapsed, gasping for breath her knees no longer supported her as she slouched against the tree, panting through the waves of magic reverberating off her. She glanced up at the tree... and as she suspected nothing much at changed. Perhaps it looked a bit brighter, stronger than the other trees around her... but it certainly wasn't sentient.

"What was that?" Pippin asked after a pause.

"I was trying to create," Evelyn muttered, more to herself than the nosey Hobbit.

"Well I don't think it worked," he hummed.

Evelyn shot him a glare that sent him scurrying back over to his older cousin.

"Why'd you look so angry doing it?" Pippin asked, an expression of open and honest curiosity that Evelyn struggled to be angry with.

"It's... it's how it works..." Evelyn admitted after a pause. Having the powers of a Vala didn't exactly come with an instruction manual. And, with an absentee grandmother the closest she ever had to a teacher had been... well had been Sauron so the only way she knew how to access her power was through anger.

"You can't _create _anything when you're angry," Merry said with an incredulous voice as if Evelyn had just missed the most obvious fact in the world. "My mum always says that if you bake a pie angry... the crust becomes brittle and the butter melts."

"And my gran says that an angry baker's dough never rises," Pippin was nodding along as well, the picture of sincerity.

"Well that might be true with baking-" she huffed, but was cut off.

"Not just baking! Mister Gamgee always said that an angry gardener's cucumbers turn sour and his patch is filled with weeds."

"Aye, you can't make anything when you're angry."

"Then what's your suggestion?!" She pulled herself to her feet, gesturing over her shoulder in the direction of Isenguard. "Because the fate of Middle Earth lies in me figuring out a way to take down Saruman's stupid tower and I have't the slightest clue what I'm doing!"

There was a pregnant pause.

"Well instead of thinking angry thoughts... why don't you try happy thoughts," Merry said with a shrug and a smile.

_You weren't angry when you healed the Golden-One, _Nightshade pointed out.

Evelyn froze, thinking over Nightshade's words... she was right. She hadn't been angry when she healed Glorfindel and she wasn't exhausted after. What she did... felt natural. It was a long shot, but so was her entire mission.

She tried again. This time, she approached the tree and closed her eyes, placing her hands on the trunk and clearing her mind of previous angers. She went back into that same state of mind that she had been in when healing Glorfindel.

She thought of everything she loved: sunshine on her face, wind rippling through her feathers, deep breaths of fresh air, the whispering of the trees, Nightshade's coarse fur and wet nose, that tug in her heart when Glorfindel was near, and even the mischievous smiles of the Hobbits- so eager to trust. She thought of the world as she wished it to be- a Middle Earth without the looming darkness of shadows encroaching. And as she imagined, she felt her magic flowing.

It wasn't like all the times past when she pulled and yanked, wrenching it out of her body until it explodes like water from a dam. Instead, it was gentle- a steady flow of power that wrapped around her and followed her guiding hand. She could feel her magic caressing the tree, enveloping it in white light before shimmering and sinking down into the trees core. When she finally finished she didn't collapse in exhaustion. She felt straggly lighter, a tingling warmth spreading across her body.

Evelyn opened her eyes and smiled. For there, standing before her, were two massive eyes as the tree looked at her with curiosity open in its expression.

"Hello," she whispered, suddenly nervous. _What if I did it wrong?_ "I think I'll call you Treebeard... is that alright with you?"

_Of course, you are my creator... why did you awaken me?_

It took Evelyn a moment to realize that Treebeard was speaking in her mind just as Nightshade usually did. It made sense... if she recalled correctly then the Ents weren't originally able to talk. It took hundred of years for the elves to teach them speech. But no matter, they wouldn't need to speak for the mission ahead.

"What..." Merry's eyes were wide and Evelyn turned, suddenly remembering that she did indeed have an audience present.

"Oh..." Evelyn smiled. "Well... Merry, Pippin, this is Treebeard. You won't be able to understand him but he can understand you. I have more work to do so I'd appreciate it if you could get him up to date with the happenings of Middle Earth... explain to him the predicament that we've found ourselves in."

The Hobbits wordlessly nodded, their eyes never leaving the hulking form of Treebeard as Evelyn turned to the next largest tree, repeating the same process. She did that over and over and over again, awakening the trees and granting them names. Vaguely in the background, she could hear Merry and Pippin gathering the newly made Ents together, explaining to them how Saruman was bent on destruction.

Eventually, Evelyn found that she didn't have an endless reserve of magic, even when using it in the manner that she could only assume to be the correct method. By that time, she had created close to twenty Ents. It was better than nothing, but no where even close to the army that she wanted- the army that there was in the books.

But then... an idea struck. There weren't enough Ents to send them at the tower as they were in the books, they would be destroyed before they could bring it down. But... if she found a way to distract Saruman and his army of orcs and Uruk-hai for long enough... then perhaps she could buy the Ents enough time to tear down the dam and flood Isenguard.

She just needed a distraction...

Her eyes shifted until they landed on the two Hobbits, both of whom were standing and gesticulating wildly as they told their tale. A plan was starting to form in Evelyn's mind. Twenty Ents, two Hobbits, a wolf, and one girl with the blood of the Valar running through her veins. Her fingers traced the golden flower clip in her hair.

_Perhaps we can win this fight... _


	56. Chapter 56

_This is a stupid idea... a very very stupid idea. _

_That's never stopped you before, _Evelyn could hear the scoff in Nightshade's voice.

_We've got one shot... but if something goes wrong... _

_The little ones will be fine. _

With that, the wolf turned and disappeared into the underbrush, heading to her station to await the signal.

Evelyn had her eyes on the tower. She could see a room lit up near the top with shadows moving across it often enough to tell her that Saruman was home. The grounds between Fangorn Forest and Isengard however, were dangerous. The earth was littered with deep caverns, the sounds of forges and groans of newly made Uruk-hai echoed in all directions. It was a practical minefield between her and the tower and there was an army ready to leap up at the slightest notice.

There was no way that anyone would be able to miss over a dozen giant trees marching their way up the cliff towards the dam. It would take a miracle to create a distraction large enough for a wizard and nearly two thousand orcs and wild men to not notice such a sight. Evelyn was hedging her bets on a miracle.

Resigning herself to the plan that _she _had created, Elizabeth released a high, shrill whistle that sounded startlingly similar to larks that didn't live near Isengard. Apparently, orcs weren't all that skilled in ornithology and thus didn't take notice, but young Pippin heard the signal clearly.

Young, happy, innocent, carefree Pippin who emerged from the tree-line, jauntily marching straight towards the pits of Isengard.

_Oh god... this is a very very very stupid idea. _

"Hulloooo!" He called out, waving a hand at the orcs scattered about in work.

It seemed that the appearance of a happy and carefree Hobbit was enough to shock the dark creatures as they all froze, staring at each other as if weren't quite sure what they were looking at. It was an almost comical sight.

"What a lovely set of mines," Pippin continued, unbothered by the shocked orcs. "I must say though... your stench is really a bit overpowering. Haven't you beasts ever heard of baths?"

"Get 'im!" One orc cried and they all launched themselves at the small Hobbit who darted off into the underbrush. It seemed that his ramblings were enough to break them out of whatever shock they had been in.

Evelyn knew that Nightshade was waiting and that at any moment, Pippin would come upon where she was hiding and hop aboard her back. The wolf was faster than any orc and would purposely leave a long and winding trail for the beasts the follow.

Evelyn waited a few moments to ensure that the orcs were well and truly invested in the chase before she released the call of an owl, deep hoots echoing across the way. That was the second signal, and moments later, from the other end of the clearing, Merry emerged.

"Afternoon!" Merry sauntered forward, hands on his hips as if he were on a casual stroll. "I was in the area and just thought that I'd pop on by. How's the wizard doing these days?"

"Another one!" One orc rather unhelpfully supplied.

"Get 'im!" Another shouted.

"Well I suppose I'm off!" Merry turned and darted back into the underbrush.

One of the slimmer, more nimble Ents was waiting for him. Evelyn silently counted in her head, knowing that the Ent would scoop Merry up and race through the forest until it arrived at the predetermined ambush where the rest of the Ents not on the trek up to the dam would be.

_Just one more thing... come on Nightshade... I know you're fast enough. _

The wolf was supposed to run through the Ent's ambush to ditch her pursuers and circle back. Very few other creatures would be capable of such a feat, but Nightshade was far faster than any normal wolf. And then, right on schedule, Pippin came sauntering out of the woods far from where he disappeared. By then the number of orcs patrolling the grounds of Isengard was already thin enough, but it didn't take them long to spot him.

"I'm back!" He called out cheerfully. "Nothing like a brisk jog to wake a Hobbit up. Anyone up for a game of tag?"

"Ow'd he get there?" A particularly large and frustrated Uruk appeared to be ready to rip the smaller orcs to shreds as he screamed in anger. "I told you unless lubs to catch the Halflings!"

That seemed to be all the encouragement that the orcs needed as yet another group broke off to chase the Hobbit. The troops patrolling the grounds of Isengard had been significantly thinned by the chase. Evelyn felt like lighting was crackling under her skin as she practically vibrated with anticipation. For then, just as she predicted, the cacophony of noise caught the attention of the master of the tower.

Saruman stepped out onto his balcony.

"What is-" the wizard din't have time to finished his question as Evelyn stepped forward, out of she shadows of Fangorn.

She held her hands up high to the sky, eyes closed as she focused on her powers. She drew deep into that well inside her, feeling the curling tendrils of light swooping around her. When she opened her eyes, seven bolts of pure light rained down from the sky. Each blasting the ground open and crumbling the caverns buried beneath Saruman's workshops.

"Saruman," she called out the name, the voice emerging from her body a deeper rumble than she had ever heard herself to produce.

A bolt of fire from the wizard's staff flew towards her, but she flicked it away with the ease that one offends an insect.

"Saruman," she called out again, taking slow and steady steps forward.

There were still a fair number of orcs and men scattered about, but they were clearly cowed by her earlier show of power. They may not have been the most intelligent of beasts, but every creature has the ability to recognize a fiercer predator than themselves.

Another blast of fire, another deflection.

"**Saruman**!" She pushed force into her voice that time, feeling the ground tremble beneath her bellow.

She just needed to distract him for a little long, she just needed to hold the facade of power and intimidation long enough for the Ents to do their job... it wasn't long now.

The white wizard was furious, rage pouring off his form as he stood at that high balcony, white coat glittering in a myriad of colors as if he were coated by the scales of a butterfly's wings. He was terrifying and held that fierce beauty of a creature not born of mortal blood. His voice was deep and booming, an enchantment on any creature not of the strongest conviction.

"What do you want?!" The wizard shouted in anger as he threw yet another easily deflected blast of fire.

**_Boom_**

"That," Evelyn smirked as she heard the gushing sound of water.

Saruman turned to see the dam crumble as a deluge of water was released.

The massive crash seemed to break Saruman's troops out of their earlier stupor as they raced either for higher ground or the throat of their foe. Evelyn drew her blades, grinning at the familiar weight in her hands as the remaining Ents emerged from the tree line whilst the rest raced down from the cliff.

Evelyn knew that her troops were returning to aide her, but at the moment she didn't care. All that mattered to her were the blades in her hands and the beasts racing towards her. The newly forged blades sung as she whirled them in the air, slicing through her foes with each deadly movement. There was nothing stopping her as she unleashed her fury.

Nightshade emerged from the forest in a blur of shadow as she struck, jaws wide and teeth gleaming. Her black armor protected her from blades as she raced across the battle field, climbing the walls and throwing down any who stood in her way.

Soon the Ents were by her side. The massive tree-like beings had no qualms about the water that was rapidly crashing towards them. Instead, they used their sturdy branches to whip through the enemy troops, crushing and bludgeoning them to death. Though they were few, they were powerful. The water that they had released eliminated any hopes that Saruman had of using fire to his advantage and the Ents took great pleasure in wracking vengeance on the one who tried to burn their forests.

It wasn't a pretty battle.

It wasn't elegant.

It was brutal and rapid, the forces of nature taking back what belonged to them as water rushed all around. The Ents, made of buoyant wood and roots that had the ability to sink deep into the earth, were unbothered as the water swept the rest of their foes off their feet, carrying them further into the caverns that they had dug. Fires were quickly extinguished as the mines turned to mud. The water became more dangerous than any blade or bludgeon as it dragged the orcs and wild men deep within the caverns, soaking the earthen walls until they collapsed with the troops of Saruman inside.

The men drowning in caves that they had dug, the orcs and Uruk-hai trapped and suffocating in the earthen womb from which they had been born.

All too soon, the battle was over. Saruman's booming commands did little to combat the collapsing tunnel system, for nothing can dissuade water from taking its natural course.

At some point during the fighting, Evelyn had flown up to stand atop the now crumbling walls. She surveyed the scene around her, battlefield eerily quiet as a few corpses floated by like particularly grisly samples of driftwood. The Ents were blinking at each other, surprised by how quickly the plan succeeded.

_Is that it?_

_Is it over? _

_Is our forest safe?_

The questioned buffeted Evelyn from all sides, but she shook her head.

"Not yet."

Evelyn took to the sky, flying over the battlefield several times to check. Merry and Pippin were happily sitting on the branch of the spry Ent that had carried Merry as they were deposited onto a relatively stable looking structure near the crumbling walls. A few orcs, Uruk-hai, and men were fleeing, but she didn't feel the need to chase them down. Whilst the troops may have been taken care of, Evelyn still had to deal with their general.

As she arrived back to the section of wall that stood near the balcony, Saruman emerged.

"You are stronger than I though, Child," he spoke calmly and so self assured that it made Evelyn's blood boil. Somehow, the wizard acted as if his entire force of nearly two thousand had not just been wiped out. "I see the potential of your powers. Allow me to offer my services as your guide, for I am gifted-" then, Evelyn heard it. The low hum of seduction that traced the path of his words.

"Did you really think your petty tricks would work on me?" She asked, a bit incredulous as she realized what he was trying to do. "Curumo, the failed Istari..." She shook her head, tutting lightly.

"Failed?" He dropped the act of seduction, his voice turning to a snarl as his grip on his staff tightened. "I am Saruman the Wise, Saruman of Many Colors. I am the greatest of the Istari, the mightiest Maia since Sauron-"

"You have failed in your duties," she deflected yet another blast of fire as the two became engaged in another duel.

Power crackled through the air and the smell of ozone permeated the grounds of Isengard as blast after blast of fire was thrown and deflected. Evelyn countered with her own bolts of white light, pure energy ripping through the air. Saruman's staff danced in the afternoon sun as he conjured his magic whilst Evelyn relied upon the flow of power that she felt swirling around her.

Saruman's voice rose into a chant causing the earth around them to tremble, but Evelyn was not deterred as she slowly lowered her hand, calming the earth till it laid still.

Saruman called up a gale, wind picking up water and throwing it through the air so fast that water droplets turned to knives, but Evelyn pushed back and the wind stopped.

Saruman waved his staff and the water surrounding Evelyn's little bit of stone wall began spiraling, twisting and turning into a gyre sucking everything around it downward. Evelyn commanded the water to be still and it obeyed.

Saruman, lifted his staff again, but Evelyn interrupted him.

"**Enough**!" Her voice boomed, the rippled at the force of her command. "Saruman, you have betrayed your duty. You have been expelled from your order. Surrender and face the consequences of your treachery."

"And who are you to command me so?" His laugh came out like a purr.

Evelyn drew herself up to her full hight, allowing her wings to rise up behind her. The dark steel and mithril of her armor gleamed in the sun as she raised her voice high like she once did oh so long ago in Gondolin. This time though... she knew who she was, and she knew what she was fighting for.

"I am Evelyn, heir of Yavanna. I am the Child of the Valar and the blood of the Aratar runs through my veins. I am the power of your masters and the Gift of Eru united in one," her eyes were blazing in fury as pure white light poured off of her. "Saruman the Traitor, your staff is **BROKEN.**"

With that command, the powerful wizarding staff in his hands snapped cleanly in half, a bright spark of magic the only indicator of the great power that had just been extinguished.

Saruman gasped as if struck, dropping the broken staff and stumbling a few steps back. His chest heaved in rage and grief as he turned his full fury onto Evelyn.

"You... you are no Vala," each breath was drawn with a desperate gasp as he raged. "You are a coward, a coward who hides and runs from her foes. You are a coddled child of weak, mongrel blood, lost in a world you do not understand. You call me a _traitor_," he spat the word with heavy distain. "Yet you once treated with Sauron as well. What does that make you?!"

Evelyn, instead of being enraged and Saruman certainly expected... laughed.

"Me, coddled?" Her laughter was dark and foreboding. "I was a child yes, a child dropped into a world where I was hated and scorned, where I did not understand my powers, where I had no friends and no allies, where there were no instructions or guidances offered up to me, and where I trusted all and was betrayed by all. But you, you were raised in the cradle of Valinor, surrounded by guidance, offered the trust of a sacred mission, and sent to this world as the trusted leader bearing messages of hope for all. And then, then you betrayed that trust that was given to you, you turned from guidance and light, you turned to greed and blind ambition heedless of the lives you stole to get it. You had everything and turned away! I had nothing and crawled my way into who I am! So DO NOT CALL ME CODDLED!"

With her rage, another blast of light struck the tower right above Saruman's head. Chunks of metal and stone fell down as he dodged them, jumping backwards further into his tower.

Saruman's staff was broken, his fortress destroyed, his army returned to the mud.

The wizard's reign was over.


End file.
